
JANET FIELD HEATH 


4 































































COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


cpo 
















ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

/ 

And Far Away From It 










As Ann came up with her uncle, the Malay woman 

bowed LOW. — Page 197. 



























ANN AT 
STARR HOUSE 

And Far Away From It 


BY 

JANET FIELD HEATH 

Author of “Ann's Family ” 

ILLUSTRATED BY 

JULIA GREENE 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 

1 my 









Copyright, 1927 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 
All rights reserved 


Ann At Starr House 



PRINTED IN U. S. A. 


IHorwooD ipr css 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 

NORWOOD, MASS. 

MAY-6’27 

© Cl A976432 





CONTENTS 


chapter page 

I The Birthday.9 

II Ann Makes a Quick Decision 27 

III Peddling Cats.36 

IV The Old Man Across the 

Street.53 

V A Visit to Thera .... 72 

VI Ann Reasons and Rhymes . . 83 

VII Thanksgiving.93 

VIII Uncle Bob.116 

IX And After All.132 

X To Go or not to Go . . . . 145 

XI The Sailing.161 

XII On Shipboard.172 

XIII Sumatra.188 

XIV In Medan.202 

XV Brastagi.216 

XVI “Good-by, Sumatra” .... 226 

XVII A Ship with Silver Wings . . 244 

XVIII “Starr Light—Starr Bright— 
Have the Wish I Wish To¬ 
night” .264 

s 













ILLUSTRATIONS 


As Ann came up with her uncle, the woman 

bowed low (Page 197) . . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“I do think purple in a yellow box is as sweet 

as it can be”.12 

“I think Thera would make a better captain” 33 

They fell over each other in a funny fashion . 41 

She put the innocent kitten on his lap ... 63 

“We can meet at the door”.74 

“I believe I’ll take these skates off and come 

in now”.83 

“For once, I’ve had enough turkey” . . .110 

“I want to try it alone”.119 

Janie kept Ann working.133 


6 




ILLUSTRATIONS 


7 


PAGE 

She worked until four o’clock.155 

In speechless delight.164 

The two girls walked miles and miles on deck 173 

“You’re too handsome for words in it!” . . 196 

One of the big bats of that country swooped 

down.209 

Stopping every once in a while to picture him 221 

The gift she had been keeping for Ann . . 227 

“To my little friend, Ann Burdette, ten thou¬ 
sand dollars”.260 

“Mary Starr, you may come out” .... 269 



4 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


CHAPTER I 

THE BIRTHDAY 

A NN was singing. Starr House was 
filled with her happy trills as she 
ran back and forth, getting every¬ 
thing ready. Into the living-room to lay a 
fire, up to Uncle Bob’s room to get out his 
smoking-jacket, out to the kitchen where 
Janie was putting the finishing touches to 
the cake—the most beautiful of all Janie’s 
beautiful cakes, because it was— Well, 
yes, it was a birthday cake! To-day was 
Uncle Bob’s birthday, and Ann had made up 
her mind that it was to be the very best birth¬ 
day he had ever had. 

“Everybody has sent something,” she told 
Janie triumphantly. “Of course, I had to 



10 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


remind them—there always has to be some¬ 
body to remind the rest about birthdays, you 
know. And I’ve wrapped the things all up 
ever so much nicer than the way they came. 
Would you put them by his place at the ta¬ 
ble, or have him open them beside the fire 
afterward?” 

“Afterward,” the old housekeeper said 
decidedly, smoothing on the last bit of icing. 
“A mon doesna like to be bothered wi’ aught 
but his eating when he’s a guid dinner be¬ 
fore him.” 

“I guess that will be better,” sighed Ann. 
“And it will be such a good dinner. The 
cake’s your present, isn’t it, Janie?” 

“I’ve a bit of a hankychief laid by. Ye 
might wrap it up wi’ the rest, if ye’ve a mind 
to.” 

“Janie! Have you!” Ann threw her¬ 
self upon the old housekeeper in such aban¬ 
don that one would have thought the rosy- 
cheeked Scotch woman had offered a piano 
or a diamond ring for the birthday celebra- 


THE BIRTHDAY 


11 


tion. “I’m so glad it’s a handkerchief; no¬ 
body else has sent one,—I can tell by the feel 
or the size of the boxes. I showed you what 
I got for Uncle Bob, didn’t I, Janie?” 

“You certainly did,” said Janie, who had 
viewed Ann’s little gift at least seven times 
during the past week. “It’s a purr-pie 
necktie in a yellow box!” 

“Yes,” said the little girl. “I do hope he 
likes it. I wanted it to be lovely, because 
he’s the best and darlingest uncle any one 
could have, and I do think purple in a yellow 
box is as sweet as it can be. Of course, he 
can’t wear it in a yellow box, but it will go 
beautifully with every suit he has. I held it 
up to all of them, and it went.” 

“It’s a right bonnie giftie,” asserted Janie. 
“And I’ll get you the hanky this minute, las¬ 
sie, and then ye’ll run awa’ like a lamb.” 

Viewing the array of presents a few min¬ 
utes later, Ann clasped her hands in quiet 
satisfaction. How fine they all looked, laid 
out on the little table beside the big chair 


12 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Uncle Bob always used! And how gay! 
For Ann, with her usual thoroughness, had 
wrapped them in tissue-paper and tied them 
with colored ribbons, giving to each parcel 



“I DO THINK PURPLE IN A YELLOW BOX IS AS SWEET AS IT 

CAN BE” 


the color she thought most like the sender; 
blue for Aunt Margaret’s, green for Uncle 
John’s, gray for Aunt Rachel’s, pink for her 
own. 

“Now I must get a nice one for Janie’s,” 
said the little girl, running back to her own 





































THE BIRTHDAY 


13 


room to a box of bright ribbons. “Let me 
see—a red one, I guess, because Janie’s al¬ 
ways so cheerful.” 

“Nothing to do now but get dressed,” she 
said the next moment. “I believe I’ll wear 
my last summer’s voile; then I’ll be in pink, 
to match my present. It’s really warm, even 
if it is October.” 

Washing, then brushing her hair vigor¬ 
ously as she talked to herself, Ann next 
brought out the voile dress and a pair of 
strap slippers. She put them on—then 
stood surveying herself, to see if she looked 
quite nice enough for a birthday uncle to 
see. In the glass was reflected a slender 
little girl with shining blue eyes and light 
brown hair that curled softly about her rosy 
cheeks. 

“How do you do, Ann Burdette? 

Your old pink dress looks pretty well yet,” 

she rhymed, laughing and bowing to the girl 
in the glass. 



ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


H 

But there was a man’s step in the hall be¬ 
low, and Ann flew. 

“Happy Birthday, Uncle Bob, Happy 
Birthday!” 

“What again!” the man chuckled as he 
stooped to kiss her cheek. 

“Oh, yes! lots more again!” Ann told 
him eagerly. “This morning was just ‘Wish 
you a Happy One’—the rest is all to come.” 

“Well, well—and here I’ve been thinking 
all day that ‘Wish you a Happy One’ was all 
there was to a grown-up birthday.” 

“Why, Uncle Bob! I wouldn’t do such 
a thing to you. There’s a lovely dinner, and 
then there’s—well, I have a present for you. 
Do hurry and clean up in a jiffy, won’t you, 
and come down quick!” 

Whiffs from the kitchen encouraged 
Uncle Bob to do as Ann requested. It was 
not long before he was seated at the table 
beside his young niece. A bowl of cosmos 
from the little garden outside made the 
table gay and pretty, and Janie’s dinner did 


THE BIRTHDAY 


15 


the rest. Oh, what a dinner! Oyster soup 
made as Uncle Bob loved it, beefsteak with 
tenderest of mushrooms, young celery, 
stuffed baked potatoes, and corn pudding! 
Dear me, how they did eat! When the 
beautiful birthday cake came on, Ann gave 
a long sigh of satisfaction. 

“I thought you wouldn’t mind choco¬ 
late ice-cream, Uncle Bob, as long as the 
cake had to be white,” she said a little apol¬ 
ogetically. 

“Certainly I don’t. Chocolate’s the best 
of all, anyway, don’t you think so?” said Mr. 
Fairlee, and Ann’s adoring glance told him 
that that was the one thing needed to make 
him the most perfect of uncles. 

“Now for the pr—the fire!” she said a 
bit later, jumping up as he finished, at last, 
his second cup of coffee. “Come, see what 
a fine one I’ve laid all ready—just the way 
you showed me. 

“You light it, Uncle Bob, darling, and 
I’ll say a verse I made up for it. Here’s the 


i6 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


match,” and, clasping her hands, Ann 
chanted softly: 

“May every birthday be as bright 
As this nice fire is to-night.” 

“Thank you, Nancy.” Touched by the 
child’s devotion, Robert Fairlee bent and 
drew her to him. 

“Wait, Uncle Bob—here’s something for 
you.” Ann motioned to the table of pres¬ 
ents. 

“Nancy! You overwhelm me! What’s 
all this now?” 

“Presents! presents from everybody!” 

“Child, child!” said her uncle. “You 
didn’t jog the family memory on this, did 
you?” 

Something in his tone made Ann look up 
quickly. “Didn’t you want me to, Uncle 
Bob? Oh, why?” 

“Well, they’re all busy, and none of them 
too wealthy. I didn’t need presents. They 
all gave me you, you know.” 


THE BIRTHDAY 


17 


“But they liked giving the presents, too; 
they said they did, even Aunt Rachel. Do 
be pleased and open them, won’t you?” 

She explained the idea of the ribbon and 
soon had him laughing again. 

“Now let’s see what I drew,” said he, 
settling down to the unwrapping. 

Freed from their papers and ribbons the 
presents made quite an array. There were, 
besides Ann’s tie and Janie’s handkerchief, 
a pair of silk socks from Aunt Margaret, 
felt bedroom slippers from Aunt Rachel, 
and, best of all, thought Ann, a bunch of 
gay, dried Japanese straw-flowers from the 
garden at Uncle John’s farm. 

“Aren’t they pretty? Aunt Flo fixed 
them for him, I know. Let’s put them in 
that lovely glass basket on the table in the 
hall!” 

“They’re really charming!” said her un¬ 
cle. “How good of old John to send them!” 

“Uncle John’s present is all prettiness, and 
Aunt Margaret’s is half prettiness and half 


18 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

common sense, and Aunt Rachel’s is all com¬ 
mon sense,” mused Ann. 

“Right-o!” her uncle laughed. “How 
well you know them all, little Ann, and how 
they must miss you!” 

“Tell me the story again, just for fun, of 
how I came to be your girl. My lessons are 
all done, so start away back at the very be¬ 
ginning.” 

Ann drew a footstool before the fire, right 
at her uncle’s feet. 

“Fine! Well then—once upon a time in 
an old house on an old street, here in this 
very town, there lived, with their father and 
mother, a much older sister named Rachel, 
and a nice quiet lad named John, a good 
little sister named Margaret, and a runaway 
rogue named Robert, and, last but not least, 
a sweet, littlest sister of all, named Ann.” 

“And she was my dear, dear mother,” said 
the little girl beside him, solemnly. 

“She was your dear mother! Well, by 
and by the old father and mother died, and 



THE BIRTHDAY 


i9 


the oldest sister, Rachel, took care of them 

all, with a buxom, big-hearted Scotch 

* 

woman to help her.” 

“Janie!” 

“That was Janie, and she stayed with 
Rachel until, one by one, the birds all 
hopped out of the nest. The lad John 
bought a little farm and married a little 
wife.” 

“Aunt Flo!” 

“And the girl Margaret helped keep 
house for a while, and then went away, to 
a home of her own, with a nice young man 
called Uncle Ted.” 

“Don’t forget that rogue, Robert,” Ann 
put in slyly. 

“Oh, yes! That rambling rogue, Robert, 
went to college, and then he tumbled into 
business and began to study the rubber in¬ 
dustry from the bottom up, and, while he 
was doing that, didn’t his little sister, An¬ 
nie, meet a fine young chap called Ralph 
Burdette, and marry him.” 


20 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“And he was my own dear father.” 

“He was,” assented Uncle Bob. “Well, 
they were as happy as king-birds all the time, 
but especially when a wee bit of a nothing, 
called Baby Ann, came along to upset all 
their housekeeping.” 

“Why, Uncle Bob, I did not!” 

“Yes, you did. I remember perfectly 
well, Nancy. You were a colicky baby. 
That’s why you have such a blooming com¬ 
plexion now; you cried those roses into your 
cheeks. But, anyway, Annie and Ralph 
did love their baby, and made great plans 
for her, when, all at once, like a terrible rag¬ 
ing thing, the Great War pounced upon 
them and all the world. Ralph Burdette 
kissed his wife and baby good-by and went 
away to Training Camp, and while he was 
there, during an influenza epidemic, his 
wife, Annie, died. It was a dreadful time, 
Nancy, especially tragic for young men and 
women with babies as you were. Ralph 
Burdette came home in a fine new uniform, 


THE BIRTHDAY 


21 


but with the smile all wiped out of his eyes, 
and he gave his baby to the aunties to take 
care of, until he should come back from 
overseas.” 

“But he never did!” 

“No, dear, he died on the field over there, 
a captain with his men. Little Ann was left 
without a mother or father, and, to make 
matters worse, didn’t that rascal of a Robert 
come home from his war job and decide to 
go to China.” 

“Where he stayed for five long years,” put 
in Ann. 

“Five years it was, and all that time the 
little girl, Ann, was handed around among 
the relatives with only her nightie and her 
family album.” 

“Oh, Uncle Bob! I had more than 
that—you know I did!” 

“Sure you did—all you needed, perhaps, 
Nancy, except a lot of the freedom and lov¬ 
ing every little girl ought to have to grow up 
right.” 




22 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Uncle Bob, I never did see how you came 
to know all about little girls!” 

“I don’t, puss; it’s a part of my education 
I’m treating myself to now.” 

“Let me finish the story—it’s the part 1 
love.” 

“Go ahead, then, Nancy, but remember 1 
absolutely refuse to play the hero.” 

“I’ll be heroine, then,” said Ann. “I’d 
love to be one, and I love to tell stories. 
Maybe I’ll not be a farmer or a teacher either 
when I grow up; maybe I’ll make stories.” 

“Well, by the time I’ve trotted you about 
the world with me you ought to be able to 
have some things to write about,” said her 
uncle. 

“I’d just adore going in a boat,” declared 
Ann. “I’ve often wondered how it would 
feel to step into one and sail away without 
knowing where you were going or any¬ 
thing. I was thinking about boats the day 
you came home from China, Uncle Bob. 
I was at Aunt Rachel’s, at that same old 


THE BIRTHDAY 


23 


house, and we had been cleaning for days 
to get ready for you, but you came before 
we expected you, after all.” 

Ann nestled closer to her uncle’s knee. 

“I can tell you now, Uncle Bob, I was 
afraid to have you come. I was so afraid 
you might not like little girls. I had a 
dreadful picture of you in my mind. I 
thought you’d be thin and oldish, and wear 
spectacles, and that you’d look over them 
at me and say, ‘Little girls should be seen 
and not heard.’ ” 

“What an imagination you have, Nancy. 
I don’t wonder you looked like such a 
mouse when I first saw you.” 

“I was in the pantry, shining up the 
spoons that day,” sighed Ann, “and I did 
feel so scared and lonely, darling dear. I 
was thinking about you coming home in a 
boat, and I made up a verse to cheer my¬ 
self with.” 

“Something about a silver ship, wasn’t 


24 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


■ “If I were a ship with silver wings, 

I’d fill myself full of the loveliest things, 

And bring them over the wide, blue seas 
To all little girls without families.” 

“And while I was singing it you came 
And, before I knew it, I was looking at you, 
and you were you.” 

“I guess I was. If you’d seen how you 
crawled into the old parlor to see me, 
though!” 

“It was such a clean parlor,” laughed 
Ann. “It had been all polished up, and 
the curtains were so white and starchy. I 
like this room much better, don’t you?” 

“It’s a modern and real living-room,” an¬ 
swered her uncle, gazing about with an air 
of huge content. 

“Do you remember the day we found this 
house?” said Ann dreamily. “It was after 
you had asked me to come and live with you 
and be your family, and you and Aunt Mar¬ 
garet and I had started out house-hunting. 
You thought an apartment would be best, 


THE BIRTHDAY 


25 


but they all cost so much and were so coopy, 
and you said, ‘Well, I wanted some sort 
of a cozy shack of my own, but I don’t be¬ 
lieve I’ll find it this side of the north woods.’ 
We had just come out of the apartment 
house right up there at the corner, and were 
going back home, when I looked over the 
garden wall here and saw this house. It be¬ 
longed to a lady named Miss Mary Starr, 
who was traveling around the world. And 
you wrote to her, and she let you rent it for 
two whole years.” 

“Right—and the second year has already 
begun. We’ve another winter here, Nancy, 
and then you and I will have to move on. 
Well, we’ll not worry about that, will we 
puss? But we shall have to worry about 
those rosy cheeks of yours if you stay out of 
bed much longer. Run along, and thank 
you, family dear, for my fine birthday.” 

The man held the little girl close to him 
for a moment, and Ann gave him a last tight 
good-night hug. 


26 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Are you going out to-night, Uncle Bob, 
or will you just sit here by the fire and look 
at your presents?” 

“Just what I shall do—and I’ll wear this 
tie of yours to-morrow. It’s a beauty.” 

He sat after Ann had left him, with the 
yellow box in his hand. 

“What a blessing the child is!” he said. 
“How lucky I am to have her, and this jolly 
little place. I wish you’d let me buy it, Miss 
Mary Starr, whoever you are. I wonder 
what you look like?” 

He gazed for a long while at the glowing 
embers of the fire. A woman’s face, tender 
and serious, gay and mocking by turns, 
seemed to gaze out at him. 

He roused himself at last, laughing a little. 
“Bob, you poor old bachelor, are you falling 
in love with a dream? Well, a dream is all 
you seem to be able to fall in love with. 
You’d better turn in, old fellow. Business 
to-morrow, and no time for dreaming.” 



CHAPTER II 


ANN MAKES A QUICK DECISION 


R OBERT FAIRLEE and Ann left 
the house together the morning 
after the birthday, Ann for school, 
her uncle for his work in town. 

Since they had moved into the new neigh¬ 
borhood, Ann had been attending a private 
school. The Junior High School, which 
she would naturally attend, was at quite a 
distance from Starr House. They talked it 
over. 

“If you can get, at that school, what we’re 
after, Nancy,” said her uncle, “we can man¬ 
age the trip across town. Education is too 
wonderful a thing for parents and guardians 
to take it lightly. There’s too much of this 
coasting boys and girls into the nearest and 

27 


28 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


cheapest school, without finding out if it is 
going to give them the things they need. 
Now, you’re my girl, Nancy, and getting to 
be a pretty big girl at that. I want you, all 
along the way, to be learning the things that 
are going to make the finest kind of a woman 
of you. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you 
to begin your Latin and French. You’ll 
need to learn to say ‘How do you do?’ in a 
few other languages besides English, if 
you’re going to skylark about the world 
with me.” 

“Oh, Uncle Bob!” was all Ann could say. 

“So as to this matter of school,” continued 
her uncle, “I think I’ll look into it.” 

The result of his looking into it was that 
Ann was sent to Miss Payton’s Private 
School a few blocks away. The teachers 
there were kindly and thorough. Miss Pay- 
ton herself was a delightful person, and the 
old-fashioned house which she had con¬ 
verted into a school-building was large and 
well lighted, and had, surrounding it, 


ANN MAKES A QUICK DECISION 


29 


ample grounds for out-of-door exercises and 
healthy sports. Ann, always happy at 
school, found herself one of a group of con¬ 
genial girls with whom her unbounded en¬ 
ergy and happy disposition soon made her 
a favorite. 

“I’m so glad to get back at school again,” 
she told her uncle as they walked along to¬ 
gether that morning. “We have such fun 
playing hockey this year—we’re getting 
pretty good, too, I can tell you! And, Un¬ 
cle Bob! we’re going to start soon and read 
French, real little books Miss Rean has sent 
to France for.” 

“Good work! Learn all you can, little 
Nancy!” 

Ann laughed up at her uncle: “You said 
that just like Uncle John, only he never calls 
me Nancy.” 

“And he never calls me Bob—good old 
John. Flere’s your corner, little girl. 
Don’t get to day-dreaming and forget to 
watch your crossings.” 


30 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“I won’t.” Ann waved to him gayly, and 
hurried on to school, where she was soon in 
the midst of a strenuous game of her favor¬ 
ite hockey. 

It was a rosy, bright-eyed group that 
greeted Miss Payton as they assembled for 
their morning exercises. 

“This morning,” said the principal, fac¬ 
ing them smilingly, at the close of the brief 
devotions, “we have quite an important mat¬ 
ter at hand. We are going to elect a cap¬ 
tain for the hockey team. As you all know, 
I believe that excellence and fairness in 
sports is quite as important as excellence in 
lessons. If you are going to play hockey 
at all, I want you to play it well. I shall 
expect the captain you elect to divide you 
into two teams, with a sub-captain for one of 
the teams. Later, she will pick the team 
that will best represent our school in games 
with other schools. I have asked Miss 
Darcy, of Junior School No. 2, to plan for 
some games between her seventh- and 


ANN MAKES A QUICK DECISION 31 

eighth-grade girls and our girls. You 
know what that means! Now I shall give 
you a few minutes to think things over be¬ 
fore we vote. Remember, girls, be impar¬ 
tial in your choosing. Choose the girl who 
can best lead the Payton team to victory!” 

Stirring words to girls from twelve to 
fourteen years of age. They looked about 
eagerly—whispering, signaling. 

Ann, with fast-beating heart, tried to think 
quietly. She was sure she would be one of 
those nominated for captain. She was 
strong and adroit; she was also a favorite. 
But Ann knew that there was one girl who 
was a better player than she. Thera Gra¬ 
ham was older than she, she thought more 
quickly, and would make a better captain. 
Of course, the girls did not like her as well, 
honest Ann had to admit that to herself. 
Thera was a girl of moods, and had an un¬ 
fortunately blunt way of saying things. 

Ann glanced around for Thera—right— 
left—behind her! Thera was not there! 




32 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Thera, on this day of days, was absent! 
Ann’s heart skipped a beat. No one would 
think of Thera; no one would have to spare 
her feelings. Thera would come back to 
school, perhaps, to-morrow, but the hockey 
captain would be chosen! 

“Well, girls, are you ready?” asked Miss 
Payton. “Nominations are in order.” 

Jean Massey, the center of a whispering 
group, jumped to her feet. 

“I nominate Ann Burdette.” 

There it was! Ann colored and smiled, 
but her thoughts were in a tumble. She 
could be a good captain, and, oh, how she 
would love to lead the Payton team! But 
the other girl would love it, too,—Thera, 
who wasn’t well liked, who had no chums, 
who received few invitations. 

Ann rose quickly. “I want to nominate 
Thera Graham,” she said. “I thank you for 
nominating me, but I think Thera would 
make a better captain. I really do, and we 
have to think about the school!” 


ANN MAKES A QUICK DECISION 33 

How they all clapped her then ! 

There was a lot of talking again. Mur¬ 
murs of “That stick!” and “But she’s a peach 
of a player,” and so on, reached Ann’s ears. 



Such a buzzing! 

“Any remarks?” said Miss Payton, at last, 
smiling. 

“Well,” spoke up Helen Murray, “per¬ 
haps Thera would make the best captain, but 
she makes the girls so mad.” 

“We could stand that,” called out some 
one, “if we could only beat Junior No. 2.” 

“I wish we could!” said some one else fer¬ 
vently. 



















34 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Any further remarks,—any further nom¬ 
inations?” called the principal firmly. 
“Well, we will vote then. Only the mem¬ 
bers of the three upper grades may vote. 
Katherine, will you please pass the papers? 
Miss Morris, will you and Betsy Lewis act 
as tellers?” 

They voted. Ann sat with bated breath. 
If they chose her now, she could take the 
leadership with a clear conscience. But 
when the votes were counted, she had won 
for the other girl—eighteen votes for Ann 
Burdette, twenty for Thera Graham. Ann 
smiled gayly, and applauded with the rest. 

“Oh, Ann! I wish you had got it,” com¬ 
plained Virginia Thompson, her best friend, 
as they walked from Assembly to their class¬ 
room. 

“I don’t care a bit, Jinny,” said Ann, 
cheerfully, although only she knew what a 
sacrifice it had been. 

Miss Berry, her beloved room-teacher, 
evidently guessed, though, for as they 




ANN MAKES A QUICK DECISION 35 

passed out for French a little later, she put 
her arms about the little girl and whispered, 
“Ann! that was noble of you! You’re a 
true sport. I’m proud of you!” 


CHAPTER III 


PEDDLING CATS 

A NN felt a little downcast as she 
turned the corner toward home 
that afternoon. The first tri¬ 
umphant flush of doing the right thing had 
died away, and she began to think: 
“ Perhaps I have been a bit too heroic 
in suggesting Thera’s name. Nobody 
kn ows for sure that she’ll be a better 
captain. O dear! Maybe I needn’t 
have said anything, after all. Well, I’ll 
talk it over to-night with Uncle Bob,— 
he’ll make it clear somehow.” 

What a happy thing it was to have some 
one to talk things over with! Uncle John 
would have understood, but he was always 
in the fields. Aunt Margaret and Aunt Flo 
were always too busy to sit down and listen 
to you, and Aunt Rachel never seemed to 

36 




PEDDLING CATS 


37 


think a little girl had any problems. “Come 
when you’re called, and do as you’re bid,” 
was all a child needed to know. 

Ann smiled to herself! The very thought 
of being Uncle Bob’s little girl instead of 
Aunt Rachel’s was enough to make any one 
smile. And this lovely Starr House to live 
in! Ann ran up the steps humming, into 
the house, and, like a hungry child, straight 
to the luncheon Janie was saving for her. 

“What are you doing, Janie?” she called 
gayly as she finished. 

“I’m here in the kitchen making ginger¬ 
bread, and it beats me where them raisins 
could have got to. I ken weel enou I had 
a guid handful waiting for this cake.” 

Ann paused in the doorway, suddenly 
sober. “Oh, Janie! I meant to tell you. 
I ate them. You know how the pictures are 
always saying, ‘Have you had your iron 
to-day?’ And I ate them one day after 
school. I’m so sorry, I’ll go right away and 
get you some more!” 


38 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Weel,’’ said the old woman, “hurry along 
then, and here, lassie, take this fifteen cents, 
and do you pay for them. It’s no trusting 
that McCarthy on his bill I am.” 

“Why, Janie, I think he’s got an honest 
face!” exclaimed Ann. “I always thought 
he looked something like you.” 

Janie grunted. “Trust a bairn for no¬ 
tions. Run along now, it’s time I was get¬ 
ting this gingerbread in, if Mr. Robert’s to 
have it for dinner.” 

“Yum! I do love it!” Ann was on her 
way. 

The McCarthy grocery was quite near by. 
It was not ten minutes before she was back, 
but at the sound of her voice, Janie’s heart 
stood still. “What was ailing the bairn?” 

“Janie!” wailed Ann. “Oh, Janie! Mr. 
McCarthy’s got kittens at the store, and he 
says he’s going to drown them!” 

“Land’s sakes, how you frightened me, 
Ann, and all for a mess of kittens.” Janie’s 


PEDDLING CATS 


39 


voice sounded her exasperation. “Weel, ye 
canna expect the mon to keep them a- 
running under his feet, childie.” 

“He says”—Ann’s lips were trembling— 
“he says nobody wants them, and he’s go¬ 
ing to do it to-night—in time—in time for 
the garbage-truck to-morrow. I think—I 
think he’s a horrid man!” 

Tears started to Ann’s eyes. “Janie, I 
can’t let him drown them. If you’d see 
them, they’re the darlingest things! Oh, 
Janie, can’t I bring them here?” 

“And what would ye be doing with four 
cats—four cats in this lovely house!” 

“I’d find people to take them, honestly I 
would. I just know I can. You ought to 
see them! Oh, please let me, Janie. I’ll do 
anything in the world for you, if you will.” 

“And where’s my raisins?” 

Ann gulped. “I forgot them. O dear! 
But how could I think of raisins? I’ll run 
right back and get them, and oh, mayn’t I 



40 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


bring the kittens? I won’t sleep all night if 
I have to think about them.” 

The tears came in a rush now. 

“Aweel—aweel. If ye must, ye must, but 
if ye dinna get rid o’ them, I will, I warn ye!” 

But Ann heard only the first words. 
Catching a basket from the shelf, she ran, 
breathless with fear and delight mingled. 

Janie shook her head. “Puir lassie! It’s 
a downright pesky thing, it is, to have a guid 
heart. Four cats!” 

Four? There seemed, at least, ten of 
them when Ann came back. The basket 
looked to be overflowing with a moving 
mass of gray and white. Disentangling it, 
laughingly, Ann caught a head here and 
a paw there, and, one by one, set the kittens 
down upon the kitchen floor, where they fell 
over each other in a funny fashion. 

“There they are, Janie! Aren’t they the 
dearest things?” 

“I canna be looking at them till my cake’s 


PEDDLING CATS 


4i 


in,” said the housekeeper, flouring raisins 
with a practised hand. “Now the cinna¬ 
mon and sody. There! It’s a mercy, it is, 
if this gingerbread comes out a’ right.” 



They fell over each other in a funny fashion 


Wiping her hands upon her apron, Janie 
stooped, at last, and lifted one of the kittens. 
It would take a harder heart than that of the 
Scotch woman to resist the rounded, purring 
thing that curled itself in her hand. 

“Weel, the bonnie wee thing,” crooned 
Janie softly, to Ann’s delight. 

“That’s one of the gray ones,” she said 
eagerly. “There are two of them exactly 














42 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


alike; they must be twins. Why! they’re all 
twins, aren’t they? But this one has much 
more white on it. And this one! Do look 
at this one, Janie! It’s all white. And it’s 
so tiny and sleepy. I think it’s the sweetest 
one of all. I’m going to name it Snowball.” 

“Ye 11 name it,” said Janie suspiciously. 
“5V11 name it! I thought it was to gie them 
awa ye were!” 

Ann looked up at her anxiously. 
“Couldn’t I keep just one, just this tiny 
white one? He’s so clean and sweet, and 
I’ll make him stay right here in the kitchen. 
Do say yes, Janie. I’ve never had a pet, not 
since my pig at Uncle John’s.” 

Janie’s heart softened again. A kitten 
like this forever under one’s feet was a trial 
not easily borne, but the aforementioned 
pig, Ann’s cherished possession, had been 
cheerfully sold by her for little lame Nessie, 
Janie’s youngest and dearest grandchild. 

“Just that one”—she began sternly, but 


PEDDLING CATS 


43 


Ann’s arms were about her neck, and Ann’s 
kisses were upon her rosy cheek. 

“I’m so happy, I never was so happy! 
Now I’ll go right away and take the rest of 
them around. I’ve thought of the finest 
plan, Janie. I’m going to take these three 
straight to that big apartment house on our 
corner, and ask the janitor to let me take 
them around to all the people that live there. 
I just know I can get them to take kittens 
like this. I don’t believe I’ll have enough to 
go around.” 

Putting her own sleepy white puss on. the 
cushion beside the range, Ann tumbled the 
others into the basket and set gayly forth. 

“I hae ma doots,” called Janie after her 
dourly. “It’s no likely ye’ll be finding any 
of them to hame. And it’s no wonder to 
me; sich wee boxes o’ places—no better than 
a tenement. And the prices they gie for 
them, too! Ye wouldna believe it, Ann, but 
Mr. Gandy was telling me the ither day that 


44 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


it’s twa hundred and twenty-five dollars a 
month they pay, the puir things!” 

“Poor! Why, they must be terribly rich! 
O dear me, Janie,” said Ann, coming back, 
“a thought struck me. If they’re so rich, 
they must have lots of cats and dogs, too. 
I’d better ask about the dogs. I don’t be¬ 
lieve such a little kitty would like dogs, 
do you Janie?” 

“No dogs allowed—no childie, either,” 
said Janie grimly. 

“It’s funny about that, isn’t it?” said Ann. 
“People around here don’t seem to like chil¬ 
dren, do they?” 

“Not when they can live in ice-box houses 
like them, and freeze themselves grandly,” 
said the housekeeper. “Ye would na notice 
anything like that on Asher Street, now, 
would ye, Ann? My Maggie wi’ her five, 
and the Quinns next door wi’ seven. I 
would no be far wrong if I said a guid thirty 
on our ain block.” 

“And they have such a good time, don’t 



PEDDLING CATS 


45 


they?” said Ann a little wistfully. “I re¬ 
member the first time Uncle Bob and I came 
to see you, Janie, to ask you to come and 
live with us, all the children in the neighbor¬ 
hood were in your yard, playing circus, and 
Nessie was sitting at the window watching 
them.” 

“ ’Twas so, and that verra day—oh, la, la, 
my gingerbread! Dinna ye ken, Ann, that 
I canna talk and bake at the same time? 
Do ye run along and take them pesky ani¬ 
mals wi’ ye.” 

It was a full half-hour before the little girl 
came back, and when she did, her face was 
very red and her eyes very bright, and in 
her basket were three kittens mewing pite¬ 
ously. 

“Some of them were out, and some of them 
had birds, and some of them said ‘No!’ just 
like that—‘No!’ ” said she. 

“Aye—weel,” Janie said in a tone that 
meant, “I told you so.” 

“I think they’re dreadful people—all ex- 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


46 

cept the ones that had birds,” exclaimed 
Ann. “But I just won’t mind them, for I 
thought of something else coming home. 
Janie, don’t you think Nessie would just love 
one of these kittens?” 

“Wi’ three or four cats already, and all a- 
lapping milk as though they were elephants! 
Na, na.” 

“Oh, Janie, elephants don’t lap milk! 
And cats are really different from kittens. 
Couldn’t you give one or two of the cats 
away to the Quinns and let Nessie have a 
kitten? It would play so cunning for her, 
or sit in her lap and purr. I’d pick out the 
purringest one of all for her, Janie.” 

Janie sighed. “I may fetch one along to 
her to-morrow when I gae hame,” she said 
wearily. “And if Maggie will na have it, 
I’ll drap it nigh the corner and let the 
Sweeny childie find it.” 

“Nessie will never let this darling go,” 
cried Ann joyfully. “And, Janie, I do be¬ 
lieve William Hazard would like one. You 


PEDDLING CATS 


47 


remember William, don’t you? That boy I 
met one summer when I was going out to 
Fenly to Uncle John’s. He was here with 
his mother one day. I’m going this very 
minute to call him up.” 

“Why, how do you do, Ann, my dear,” 
she heard Mrs. Hazard’s sweet voice say a 
few moments later. “This is very nice of 
you to call us up. Did you wish to speak to 
William? He’s just bought a brand-new 
football suit, and he’s all rigged out in it, 
out in the back lots, playing with the other 
boys.” 

“Oh, I’d love to see him.” Ann really 
forgot the object of her telephoning until 
one of the kittens fell from her lap with a 
soft thud. She hastened to explain to Mrs. 
Hazard in a rush of words only a mother 
could have understood. 

“A kitten! Oh, my dear, I don’t believe 
we want one. It’s so difficult to have it well 
taken care of if you go away for the sum¬ 
mer.” 


48 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“But—but by that time, I think I could 
take it out to Fenly to Uncle John’s,” said 
the ever-resourceful Ann. “And, oh, Mrs. 
Hazard, if I can’t give them away, I’ll have 
to take them back and they’ll be dr— 
drowned!” 

William’s mother remembered the look in 
Ann’s blue eyes one day at Fenly when a 
stray dog was run over and hurt. She re¬ 
membered, too, how good little Ann Bur¬ 
dette had been to William that same summer, 
—William, lonely and lost in the mysteries 
of country life. 

“I see,” she said. “Well—perhaps we 
could take one, dear. I tell you, you and 
William haven’t seen each other for some 
time. How would it be if, later on this 
afternoon, I bundled him into the car in his 
football togs and we both came over for the 
kitten?” 

“Oh, Mrs. Hazard, would you!” Ann’s 
delight flowed into her voice. It seemed too 


PEDDLING CATS 


49 


good to be true. Another kitten taken care 
of, and a visit from her friends! 

Calling the news back to Janie, Ann 
brought her school-books to a seat beside the 
window, to watch for the familiar limousine. 
Glancing up, a little later, she saw, not the 
Hazard car, but something else that made 
her drop her pencil and speed once more to 
the kitchen, where Janie was now patiently 
washing spinach. 

“I’ve got a wonderful idea,” she cried. 
“Things just seem to come to me this after¬ 
noon. /'know whom we can give that other 
kitten to—the old man across the street; you 
know, Janie, the one that lives in that big 
stone house. He goes out riding in a big 
car, and has a man to help him. He’s lame, 
I think.” 

“ ’Tis the mon that has had the stroke, ye 
mean?” 

“What’s a stroke?” 

“ ’Tis the hand of God fallen upon ye—a 



50 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


sickness, mind ye. Aye, I ken the one ye 
mean, bairn. He’s a verra wealthy auld 
gentleman, they tell me, and all alone he is 
in that grand big house.” 

“Is he?” exclaimed Ann, joyfully. 
“Then he’s sure to want a kitten—’tis such 
a lot of company.” 

“ ’Tis more than a company, ’tis a crowd! 
Scat! ye miserable beastie,” said poor Janie, 
who had had to dance a jig all the afternoon 
over one or the other of the two kittens Ann 
had left in the kitchen. 

Ann threw her arms about her once more. 
“You’re so good to me, Janie dear. Just be 
thinking that to-morrow they’ll all be gone 
but our sweet little Snowball. I’d take one 
across to the old gentleman now, but Wil¬ 
liam will be here any minute.” 

William, when he came, was truly a sight 
not to be missed. The new football suit was 
bright green and black. There were socks 
to match, and a helmet and a nose-guard. 


PEDDLING CATS 


5i 


He strutted up and down for Ann to take it 
all in. 

“William! don’t you look gorgeous! 
And you look twice as big, doesn’t he, Mrs. 
Hazard? Oh, I do wish they’d let us girls 
play football!” 

“Yes, and have them howling all over the 
place, ‘O dear me, somebody stepped on my 
toe!”’ 

“Why, William!” said his mother. 

“Pooh! Who said so?” exclaimed Ann. 
“I guess we get knocked ten times more in 
hockey, and we never say a word. You just 
ought to see my—well, my shins; they’re all 
black and blue this minute.” 

Mrs. Hazard laughed and hugged her. 
“Boys haven’t a thing on girls nowadays, 
have they, Ann? But you must come over 
and see some of our football games. 
They’re pretty good, I tell you that. Now 
let’s see that precious kitten, then we must 
hurry back.” 


52 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Ann brought out the gray kittens. “This 
one’s the smartest, but this one cuddles 
nicer,” she said. 

“I’ll take the smart one,” said William 
promptly, and Ann handed it over. 

“I hope he’ll be good to it,” she thought, 
watching William carry it out to the car. 
He was dangling poor pussy in front of him, 
so the new football suit would not get 
clawed. 

“To-morrow you’ll have a godfather, too,” 
she whispered to the gray bunch left in her 
arms. “To-morrow! to-morrow! and not 
one of you drowned!” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE OLD MAN ACROSS THE STREET 

I T is a wonder that Ann did not dream of 
cats that night; but the fact that three of 
the pets were provided for, made her 
slumber sweet. It was after seven the next 
morning before she awoke. Slipping into 
the pretty bathroom adjoining her room, she 
bathed in cold water, as Uncle Bob had ad¬ 
vised, and then, skipping and jumping about 
in the sheer delight of being alive and hav¬ 
ing a white kitten all her own, she began to 
dress. 

She was in the kitchen as soon as Janie, 
and, fearing that the kittens might bother the 
housekeeper as she hurried to and fro, pre¬ 
paring breakfast, Ann carried them on 
their cushion into the sunny dining-room, 
where they lay, blinking and stretching, pok- 

53 


54 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


ing their feet into each other’s ears in such 
a funny way that Ann squealed with delight, 
as though she, herself, were a kitten. 

Uncle Bob, who came down a little later, 
had to laugh with her. 

“If we’d all take time to stretch and yawn 
in the morning before we get up, as these 
fellows do, we’d be much better off,” said he. 
“This jumping out of bed as soon as you 
waken isn’t Nature’s way; don’t forget that, 
Nancy.” 

“But eating oatmeal is,” said Ann, “and 
I’d better eat a big dish of it, too, because this 
is my busy day.” 

Ann felt very important as she said this. 
On Fridays, Janie went to spend the after¬ 
noon and evening with Maggie and her fam¬ 
ily, and sometimes, on that day, Ann pre¬ 
pared a surprise dinner for Uncle Bob and 
herself. 

There were, of course, times when they 
went to Aunt Rachel’s or Aunt Margaret’s, 
where Uncle Bob and Uncle Ted sat talking 


THE OLD MAN ACROSS THE STREET 55 

for a cozy hour over their coffee and cigars, 
and little Peggy and Tom stayed close beside 
Ann, begging for the stories she used to tell 
them when she lived the winters through 
with them. 

And, once in a while, her uncle took her 
to a delightful tea-room in their neighbor¬ 
hood, where, under softly shaded candles, 
they ate things Janie never prepared for 
them, topped off by desserts that Ann said re¬ 
minded her of fairy kisses. 

She tried to explain them to Janie, and 
begged to be taught how to make them, so 
she could play “tea-room” on Fridays at 
home, but Janie shook her head with true 
Scotch obstinacy. 

“Is it the whippit cream, ye’re meaning? 
Na, na, lassie, it ne’er sat weel on Master 
Robert’s stomach. A guid-beat meringue 
is what I’ll be making.” 

Ann could never see but that the desserts 
she meant agreed remarkably well with her 
uncle, but being at Aunt Rachel’s had taught 


56 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


her to be deferential to an older person’s 
opinion, so she said nothing more, and 
learned all that Janie would teach her about 
plainer cooking, so that whenever she played 
housekeeper, she could offer a somewhat va¬ 
ried menu to her beloved relative. 

“About to-night, now?” said the latter, as 
they sat down for breakfast. “Do we tea¬ 
room, or poach on our relatives, or home- 
sup?” 

“Oh, home-sup,” declared Ann. “Janie 
and I have it all arranged, haven’t we?” she 
added, as the housekeeper came in with ce¬ 
real. “And Janie! Don’t forget I’m go¬ 
ing to put a blue ribbon on Nessie’s kitten, 
so you’ll know which one to take this after¬ 
noon.” 

Uncle Bob chuckled. “We’re both being 
led around by the nose, Janie,” he said. 

The old woman smiled. “Not Scotch 
Janie,” she said. “Ye maun look oot for 
yourself, though.” 

“I’ll hurry right home after our folk- 


THE OLD MAH ACROSS THE STREET 57 

dancing this afternoon,” continued Ann, un¬ 
conscious of their banter, “and take the other 
gray kitty over to the old gentleman.” 

Uncle Bob, engrossed in his morning pa¬ 
per, seemed not to hear, but Janie nodded 
sagely. “It’s my opinion there’ll be no lead¬ 
ing people by the nose in that house,” she 
murmured. 

She and the blue-ribboned kitten were 
both gone when Ann came home that after¬ 
noon from her dancing-class; but the old 
gentleman neighbor, to Ann’s great satisfac¬ 
tion, was just returning from his ride, and 
entered his house as the little girl came to 
hers. 

Catching up the gray pussy, she smoothed 
its fur and examined its blue eyes. 

“I hope he’ll take you, darling,” she said. 
“I wish I were acquainted with him. I do 
feel kind of queer about going over there. 
But you must have a home, kitty.” 

Cuddling the little thing in her arms, Ann 
ran across the street to the home of the pro- 


58 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


spective cat-owner. The house was a large, 
brown-stone one, and the oak door that Ann 
approached was massive and not inviting- 
looking. 

“I feel as though I were going into a cas¬ 
tle,” thought the little girl, and wondered 
what she would find inside. “Perhaps it 
will be another adventure. I must remem¬ 
ber to tell William about it.” 

When the door was finally opened, there¬ 
fore, by a manservant as tall and impassive 
as the door itself, Ann looked up at him with 
a face full of real anticipation. 

“Is the—the gentleman at home?” she 
asked, in a clear, happy voice. 

The servant hesitated. “What might you 
be wanting to see him about, miss?” 

“I’ve just come to call, I guess,” said Ann. 
“And to give him this.” She showed the kit¬ 
ten in her arms. 

The man did not show his surprise, al¬ 
though he told the other servants later: 
“You could ’ave knocked me o’er with a 



THE OLD MAN ACROSS THE STREET 59 

feather, that you could! Her a-standing 
there with the kitten in ’er arms and a-saying 
as ’ow she’d come to call. But I’ve my hor- 
ders, ’aven’t I, so sez I, ‘Mr. Trowbridge 
is not well, and he doesn’t receive callers.’ ” 

“Then I won’t stay at all,” said Ann, step¬ 
ping into the hall under the butler’s arm, and 
quite unconscious that she was intruding. 
“I’ll just give him this.” 

“Wait just a moment, miss,” said the as¬ 
tonished man, and, leaving Ann standing in 
the great hall, he disappeared into a room at 
his right. 

“A little girl!” growled the man who sat 
inside the room. “To see me! Are you in 
your dotage, Smiley? Haven’t I ground it 
into you yet that I won’t see such people? 
Begging! Let them go to Tyson!” 

“Beg pardon, sir, she said she had some¬ 
thing to give you—it’s—it’s a young animal, 
I believe, sir!” 

“Humph! What’s that you say? Just a 
ruse to get in! Beggars, all of them! I’ll 



6 o 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


show them!” But there was, nevertheless, a 
shade of curiosity in his tones, and, to the but¬ 
ler’s complete surprise, he added: “Bring 
her in. I can deal with them, if you can’t.” 

Ann sensed, rather than observed, the 
magnificence of the room into which she was 
shown. The shades were already drawn, 
shutting out the clear October sunshine, and 
under the spot-light of a tall lamp, with pa¬ 
pers strewn about him, sat the person she had 
come to see. 

She came forward and made a slight 
curtsy, as Aunt Margaret had taught her 
years ago. 

“How do you do, sir?” she said, holding 
out her hand. 

As the man in the chair looked up into 
Ann’s candid blue eyes his hand came out in 
an abrupt gesture, that, if it could not be 
called a handshake, was, at least, an apology 
for one. 

“Well, what do you want?” he asked. 

Ann wished she had not come, but she re- 


THE OLD MAN ACROSS THE STREET 61 

membered what Janie had told her about 
him: “He’s just sick and miserable, and 
that always makes people cross.’’ 

So she determinedly, and without invita- 
tation, drew up a chair, and, sitting down, 
put the kitten in her lap. 

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” she said, as she 
would have to Tom or Peggy. “I won’t stay 
but a moment. We’re neighbors, you know. 
I live in Miss Mary Starr’s house, right 
across the street, and I often see you going 
out riding or coming in.” 

“Humph! Well—who sent you here?” 
growled the neighbor, still uninterested. 

“Why, nobody sent me!” laughed Ann, 
taking courage. “I haven’t anybody to send 
me. I just came. Well, I’d better tell you 
all about it, then you’ll understand.” 

Very simply she told the story of the kit¬ 
tens. 

“Now, you see, there’s only this one left.” 
She held forth the softly-purring gray ball. 
“And just as I was wondering where I could 


62 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


get a good home for it, I looked up and saw 
you, and I thought you’d love to have it. 
That’s why I brought it over.” 

Ann felt more at ease now. The old man, 
under shaggy eyebrows, seemed to be listen¬ 
ing to her, and the little girl fancied that he 
did not look so cross. 

“Well, is that all?” he asked at last. 

“Oh, yes, thank you,” said Ann cheer¬ 
fully, and she rose to go. Coming quite 
close to his knees, which were covered with 
a robe, she put the innocent kitten on his 
lap. “I’m so glad you’re going to have it. 
It will be a lovely home for it, and a kitten’s 
such fun.” 

She went smilingly toward the door where 
the petrified servant stood at attention. 

“Wait!” shot out the old man in the chair. 
He held out the poor kitten by the scruff of 
its neck, as though it were an abomination. 

“Smiley! Have you any cats in the quar¬ 
ters?” 


THE OLD MAH ACROSS THE STREET 63 

“Well, sir—none that I know of, unless 
cook-” 

“Take this to Mrs. Kelly, and tell her to 
look after it.” 



She put the innocent kitten upon his lap 


“Oh!—” began Ann, then suddenly held 
her peace. After all, the kitten was to be 
taken care of, and there was something so 
sad about this old man who didn’t want even 
a kitten to love him. 

“May I come again sometime?” she asked 
hesitatingly. “Perhaps we could play a 






































6 4 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


game or something, and the time wouldn’t 
be so long.” 

“Who sent you?” said her ungracious host 
again. “Women folks, I suppose!” 

“There aren’t any women folks but me, 
unless you count Janie,” said Ann. 

She waited a long time for an answer, 
while the old man looked at her steadily with 
sharp gray eyes. 

“Well—sometime, you might come,” he 
said at last grudgingly, “but don’t bring any 
more cats.” 

“Strike me dead, if he didn’t,” said Smiley, 
telling his tale of it afterward. “And ’im 
that never sees any one but Tyson and Miss 
Millicent and Mister Peter!” 

“Ain’t that the beatingest!” exclaimed 
Molly, the chambermaid. “And what did 
she look like, the little kid, Smiley?” 

“She was a slim slip of a miss, with a sing¬ 
ing kind of a voice,—a right pretty little 
thing,—and she walks up to ’im like I told 



THE OLD MAN ACROSS THE STREET 65 

you, and puts out ’er ’and—so— Oh, I was 
fit to die!” 

“Why, bless my soul,” put in Mrs. Kelly, 
to whose tender graces the gray kitten had 
been offered, “she must be the gay young 
thing I’ve seen flying by right opposite, and 
with her, every once in so often, there’s a fine- 
looking young man—her brother, I’d be tak¬ 
ing.” 

“ ’Er huncle, I think she was saying. 
And no mother, the poor child. Well, I’m 
one for ’oping she comes again. There’d 
be something that would make one day a bit 
different from another.” 

Meanwhile the subject of their conversa¬ 
tion was back in her own kitchen, assem¬ 
bling the supper she and Janie had carefully 
planned that morning. 

“Cold meat in the ice-box, all ready except 
for the parsley,” said Ann. “Potatoes to 
bake. I must light that oven this minute. 
Pineapple salad with that luscious cottage 




66 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

cheese, and left-over gingerbread. There! 
that’s all—only the coffee. I do hope I can 
make that right to-night.” 

Busily scrubbing potatoes as she talked, 
the young cook popped them into the oven 
and brought out the lettuce and the parsley. 

With the table laid for two, the garnished 
meat platter and the salad in place, the coffee 
bubbling in the percolator, Ann finally gave 
a long sigh of satisfaction. 

“I declare, I do like to keep house. I 
don’t believe I’ll be a farmer or a teacher 
either when I grow up. Maybe I’ll just be 
a plain lady.” 

Uncle Bob, too, evidently thought that a 
good idea. He was loud in his praise of the 
little supper, and when. Ann proudly 
brought him his fragrant cup of coffee, he 
put his arms about her and gave her a little 
hug. 

“What a fine wife you’ll make for some 
one some day, Nancy. I knew, as soon as 
I saw you, that you were a good housekeeper. 



THE OLD MAN ACROSS THE STREET 67 

Wasn’t I the foxy old uncle to kidnap you 
this way.” 

Ann beamed upon him, drawing up her 
chair for their usual after-dinner chat. 

“When I’m big, Uncle Bob, and Janie is 
ever so old, I’m going to do everything for 
you,” she said. 

“And just about that time,” answered her 
uncle with twinkling eyes, “some nice young 
chap will come along and carry you off. 
That’s the way things turn out.” 

“Well,” said Ann, honestly, “I suppose 
I’ll have to get married sometime. But 
maybe you’ll be married, too, then, and we 
can all live together. Wouldn’t that be all 
right? Don’t you want ever to get married, 
Uncle Bob?” 

Mr. Fairlee looked thoughtful. “Upon 
my soul, Nancy, I don’t know. I do know 
I’ve never yet seen any one but you that I’d 
like to have for a pal for the rest of my days. 
I’m just so afraid, puss, that I’ll get all nicely 
married to a sweet, stay-at-home sort of a per- 


68 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


son and then want to go wandering again, as 
I often do. Wouldn’t that be a tangle?” 

“You could ask her beforehand if she’d 
like to, you know,” said Ann seriously. 
“Some ladies do. There’s Miss Mary Starr 
now. Maybe she’d do. She seems to like 
traveling around. Don’t you often wonder 
what she looks like, Uncle Bob? I wish 
she’d left a picture of herself here for us to 
see. I just know she isn’t the big picture in 
the dining-room, and, of course, she isn’t the 
man in the hall. But I’ve made up the love¬ 
liest picture of her. I always think she’s 
young and pretty, with lots and lots of golden 
hair and great big, sad, brown eyes.” 

“Why sad?” laughed her uncle. “I think 
she’s pretty lucky, getting a trip around the 
world, and having this fine house to come 
back to. Now I bet she’s middle-aged, at 
least, with gray hair and a few gold teeth, 
and a purple umbrella.” 

“A purple umbrella!” exclaimed Ann. 
“Oh, Uncle Bob, I think that’s funny! 


THE OLD MAH ACROSS THE STREET 69 

Whatever made you think of a purple um¬ 
brella?” 

“Well—what made you think of big sad 
eyes?” teased her uncle. “Oh, Nancy, 
Nancy, I’m afraid Rachel’s right about us— 
we’re a pair of romancers, you and I, and 
romancing doesn’t wash the dishes. Come, 
I’ll help you.” 

“No, indeed, Uncle Bob! You read, and 
I’ll do them all myself.” 

“Well, I’ll carry them out for you. I’ll 
have to have some exercise after that supper, 
or I’ll have the gout.” 

“That reminds me of something I want to 
tell you,” said Ann, and she related the story 
of her afternoon’s visit with Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge. 

“H’m’m—well!” was all Uncle Bob fi¬ 
nally said. 

“Why, you don’t seem a bit interested,” 
said Ann, a little downcast at the reception 
of her news. 

“Yes, I am, of course I am, but let’s talk 




70 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


about it some other time, puss. We must get 
this work done now.” 

The truth of the matter was that Robert 
Fairlee understood the situation much more 
clearly than Ann did, but, not knowing what 
to say to her about it, he said nothing, and the 
little girl, dismissing it all from her mind, 
gave her own white kitty a great saucer of 
milk and set about her dish-washing in an 
orderly manner. 

“First the silver and the glass, 

Put them in without a splash,” 

she sang. “Dear me, so many of them to¬ 
night. I’d better make up verses to help 
along.” 

Shaking the soap with a vigorous hand, 
and working briskly, she rhymed, line by 
line: 

“When soapsy suds begin to float, 

And a cup floats by like a little boat, 

I’ll wash it clean and drain it dry, 

And say ‘What a good little maid am I!’ ” 


THE OLD MAH ACROSS THE STREET 71 

“Just like Jack Horner,” said Ann, finishing 
the meat platter last. “Oh, but I’m sleepy. 
This has been a full day. Good-night my 
precious kitty; stay right on your cushion. 
Uncle Bob, would you mind if I went to bed 
now, even if it is Friday night?” 

“I’d mind if you didn’t,” said her uncle. 
“I’m afraid you’ve gone at things too hard 
to-day. Get a fine sleep, little girl.” 

He sat for a long time, alone, reading. 
When he finally looked up, he, too, sounded 
sleepy, for he said: “Not golden hair— 
soft, dark hair, I think. And not sad eyes, 
Nancy. Deep, happy eyes!” 


CHAPTER V 


A VISIT TO THERA 


O CTOBER departed with a glorious 
whirling of leaves and a gay jin¬ 
gling of Halloween festivities. 
There had been a jolly costume-party that 
Miss Payton had given at the school for her 
girls. It was the first time Ann had partic¬ 
ipated in any kind of Halloween fun, and, 
having had hints some weeks before of the 
coming party, she had been full of anticipa¬ 
tion, and had carefully saved from her al¬ 
lowance enough money to buy some flow¬ 
ered cretonne for the costume she had 
thought of. Ever true to her beloved 
Mother Goose, she had decided to go as Lit¬ 
tle Bo-Peep. She and Janie made the gay, 
pretty gown together, and in it Ann made a 
charming little shepherdess indeed. 

72 


A VISIT TO THERA 


73 


Thera Graham had been in such doubt 

« 

about her costume that she had about given 
up the party altogether. 

“I guess I’ll just stay at home,” she told 
Ann. “I hate dressing up and trying to be 
pretty in anything.” 

“Why don’t you try to be funny, then, 
Thera?” said Ann. “Oh, I’ll tell you,—go 
as the Pieman that Simple Simon met. 
You’ll have to be plain in that. Bring some 
of those cunning baker’s pies and let’s try it. 
I’ll help you with the costume, and we can 
meet at the door and go in together.” 

“Well, all right,” said Thera, a little en¬ 
couraged by Ann’s enthusiasm. 

She planned a brown chintz costume, to 
which Ann, with her love of color, added a 
touch of orange. With her straight, black 
hair and slim figure, Thera really looked 
well in it, and, to every one’s surprise, her 
own, most of all, she was a great success. It 
seemed that, in assuming a new role, Thera 
shed much of her shyness and awkwardness. 


74 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

She became jolly and madcap like the rest of 
them, and her funny antics with the pies en¬ 
deared her more to her schoolmates than her 
brilliance in mathematics or her prowess on 
the hockey field. 



Ann, especially, was delighted to see 
Thera shine. They had become friends ever 
since Thera had learned from some of the 
girls of Ann’s generosity in nominating her 
for the captaincy of the team. She had 
promptly tried to return the friendliness by 



















A VISIT TO THERA 


75 


making Ann captain of the scrub team, and 
the two girls spent many spare moments at 
school together, working out efficiency 
schemes for the coming games. 

“If they’d stop their fussing and work like 
a real team, we’d get somewhere,” Thera said 
fiercely one day. “So afraid they’ll get 
knocked, and half of them in the way all the 
time!” 

“Oh, well,” said Ann, “I suppose they do 
the best they can. They just don’t seem to 
forget themselves somehow and put all their 
heart in the game. Do you suppose if we 
had songs and cheer-leaders, as big schools 
do, it would help?” 

“Not like pitching in and getting there,” 
said Thera gloomily. “But we could try it. 
You’re always thinking of things, Ann. I 
say, couldn’t you come home with me to¬ 
morrow, after dancing, and we could make 
up some things like that.” 

“I’d love to, if I might,” said Ann. “I’ll 
ask Uncle Bob to-night.” 


76 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


None of the girls had visited at Thera’s 
house. They knew that her father was a 
well-known lawyer, and that their home was 
a large one, on one of the prettiest avenues 
in the town; but Thera had never been 
chummy with any of her schoolmates, and 
usually left school in her father’s car, asking 
none of them to ride with her. 

Ann, therefore, felt a little thrill of ad¬ 
venturing, when, having obtained permis¬ 
sion to do so, she went home with Thera the 
following afternoon. 

“Come in here,” said her friend, leading 
the way into a comfortably and handsomely 
furnished library. “This is Dad’s room, but 
he lets me come in here to study or read. 
Wait and I’ll get some candy and stuff to eat, 
and then we can get at those songs.” 

She came back, carrying a large jar of 
candy, followed by a maid bearing a tray 
with ginger-ale and small cakes. 

“Don’t they look good,” said Ann. “But 


A VISIT TO THERA 


77 


you shouldn’t have brought so much, Thera. 
Janie scolds if I eat between meals.” 

“Pooh! I guess it won’t hurt you for 
once,” said the other girl coolly, helping her¬ 
self to another chocolate. “You think a lot 
of that Janie of yours, don’t you, and your 
uncle, too. He’s your guardian, isn’t he?” 

“He’s all the family I have,” laughed Ann. 
“That is, all in-the-same-house family.” 

“We haven’t a much bigger one, just 
Mother and Dad and I.” 

“Is your mother at home?” Ann asked 
shyly, with her ever-unsatiable longing to be¬ 
hold mothers. 

“No, she’s out. She’s always out. Dad 

is, too. If he isn’t busy at the office, he’s off 
playing tennis somewhere. He even plays 
it indoors in the winter-time. He’s good at 

it, too,—plays in tournaments, if he wants to. 
Here’s a magazine on tennis that comes all 
the way from France. Look! Aren’t the 
pictures funny'! Sometimes I try to read 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


78 

some of it, and I can pick out a few of the 
sentences. You try, Ann; you’re fine at 
French!” 

“And I’ve had enough of it for to-day. 
Do stop eating those macaroons, Thera. 
You’ll not want a bit of dinner to-night.” 

“Oh, well, half the time I don’t know what 
I’m eating. If I take a book to the table and 
it’s a good story, I don’t eat much, anyway.” 

“A book! At the dinner-table! Don’t 
your father and mother mind?” exclaimed 
Ann. 

“When they’re here for dinner, they do, of 
course, but they’re away half the time, so I 
do as I choose.” 

“Oh!” said Ann. But it was a very round 
“Oh,” for in her heart she was thinking that 
this was a queer kind of family indeed. She 
changed the subject hastily. 

“Dear me, see what time it is. Let’s get 
busy, Thera. Let’s each take a pencil and 
paper and go in our own corner to write the 
words. You take the tune of any song we’re 


A VISIT TO THERA 


79 


singing, and I’ll take another. Let’s see 
what we can do.” 

For a good half-hour Ann’s fair head and 
Thera’s dark one were bent over the big 
sheets of paper. Ann scribbled, gayly hum¬ 
ming as she wrote, but Thera, with knitted 
brows, wrote slowly and silently. 

“There, mine’s done!” Ann finally an¬ 
nounced from her corner. “Are you nearly 
ready, Thera?” 

“Almost,” said the older girl, dashing off a 
few last words. “But it isn’t any good. 
You read yours first.” 

“All right, then,” and Ann sang blithely, 
to her favorite negro melody: 

“Come along, little ball, 

Don’t you hear that good old call? 

See them follow you around, 

Skimming gayly o’er the ground. 

Playing lucky, playing fair, 

Our good team will get you there. 

Don’t you worry, little ball, 

Payton girls will beat them all.” 


8o 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“That’s jolly. That ought to put some 
pep into them,” declared Thera. “Mine 
isn’t nearly so good. It’s to the tune of 
‘Blue Eyes.’ I can’t sing it, but it goes: 

“Dribbling, dribbling, all eyes on the ball, 

Never do we falter, never do we fall. 

Nearer, nearer, nearer, nearer to the goal. 

Watch it! guard it! hit it! and then let it roll!” 

“See us run, see us win! 

Just P-A-Y-T-O-N. 

Oh, we’re having lots of fun. 

See us win for dear Payton.” 

Thera’s voice rang out with real fire on 
the last words, and Ann ran over and gave 
her a little hug. 

“That’s simply perfect! The girls will be 
crazy about it. Now if Miss Payton will let 
us try these songs some mornings in Assem¬ 
bly, and they’ll all sing them at the games, it 
surely ought to help!” 

“Let’s hope so.” Thera’s face was really 


A VISIT TO THERA 


81 


glowing. Ann’s hug, the first she had ever 
received from any girl her own age, had 
touched and pleased her. She felt that, in 
Ann’s friendship, something new and de¬ 
lightful had come into her life. 

A sudden noise at the door made them 
both glance up. A slight, girlish figure 
stood in the doorway. 

“ ’Lo, Mother,” Thera said carelessly, go¬ 
ing on with her copying. 

“Mother!” exclaimed Ann, standing up. 
“Why, she looks like a young girl!” 

The lady laughed lightly. 

“What a charming little flatterer! Who 
is your friend, Thera? You’re not very po¬ 
lite.” . 

“Excuseme; Ann Burdette, Mother,” said 
her daughter. “We’re doing school work.” 

“Well, I won’t disturb you then. Bye- 
bye, darlings; be good.” 

“Isn’t she sweet!” exclaimed Ann, as Mrs. 
Graham flitted away as she had come. 


82 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Why didn’t you tell her about our songs, 
Thera? I know she must be awfully proud 
of you, being captain.” 

“She doesn’t know it. I told Dad, 
though,” said her friend, briefly. “Mother 
doesn’t care anything about sports. She just 
likes bridge and jazz, and things like that.” 

Ann felt a sudden emptiness in the luxuri¬ 
ous, big house. She felt a new longing to 
get back to dear little Starr House and Uncle 
Bob. 

“I think I’d better go. Janie said to be 
home by five,” said she. 

“Poor Thera!” she thought to herself all 
the way home. “No wonder she is thin and 
queer. Nobody seems to care what she does.” 

And at home, at last, in her own little 
room, Ann stood for a long time looking at 
the pictures of her father and mother, always 
close together on the old dresser. 

“Father—Mother, dear,” she whispered. 
“Even if you’re not right here with me now, 
I’d rather have you; I’d rather have you!” 


CHAPTER VI 


ANN REASONS AND RHYMES 



OOD afternoon, Mr. Smiley.” 
Mr. Trowbridge’s tall butler 
glanced down quickly at the 
gay little figure before him. It was Ann on 
roller-skates, Ann in a dark blue sweater and 
red tam-o’-shanter, looking up at him with a 
question in her eyes. 

“How’s the kitty?” she asked. 

“It’s quite fine, miss—it is that, really, and 
quite a pet with hall of us ’ere.” 

“Mine is, too,” said Ann, smiling happily. 
“I kept the little white one, you know. And 
does Mr. Trowbridge like it, too, Smiley?” 

“Well, I can’t rightly say, miss. You see, 
miss, Kelly, she’s got so fond of it, she keeps 
it close by most of the time. Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge, he’s been quite poorly lately. He 


83 



ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


84 

gets a cold usual, this time of the year, and 
isn’t able to be out.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my poor, dear old man. 
I wish I could do something for him. Do 
you think he’d like me to come and sit with 
him a while?” 

Smiley’s impassiveness lighted for a mo¬ 
ment. “Well, I don’t know but he might, 
miss. Miss Millicent, that’s his daughter, 
is in Europe, and he sits there mostly by him¬ 
self.” 

“I believe I’ll take these skates off and 
come in now,” said Ann in a business-like 
tone. “I’ll just run over and tell Janie 
where I am and come right back.” 

Perhaps she imagined it, but it seemed to 
her, when, a few moments later, Smiley an¬ 
nounced her and she entered the big room, 
that she caught a gleam of welcome from the 
shrewd, gray eyes turned suddenly upon her. 

“Well,” said Mr. Trowbridge, “what have 
you brought this time?” 

“Only myself,” laughed the little girl. “I 


ANN REASONS AND RHYMES 85 

hadn’t seen you out lately, so I thought I’d 
come to visit.” 



“I BELIEVE I’ll take these skates off and come in 

now” 









































































































































































































86 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Hmm—had a nasty cold and couldn’t go 
out—had to stay cooped up here. Always 
the same, always something,” said the old 
man gloomily. 

“And everybody fusses over you so,” de¬ 
clared Ann sympathetically. “I do hate it, 
too. I had a cold last winter, and Janie put 
an old plaster over my chest, and Uncle Bob 
made me have the doctor, and I couldn’t go 
out for a week. I tell you, I had to make up 
verses at a great rate that time.” 

“Make verses, do you? What kind of 
verses?” 

“Oh, not real ones, just rhymes, you know, 
to get things out of me or put them in,— 
when I’m very sad or very happy or awfully 
mixed-up. You see, making a verse sort of 
gets you quiet and straightens things out for 
you. You kind of own up to things instead 
of trying to hide them inside of you, espe¬ 
cially if you sing it out loud afterward. 
Now I just believe if you were to make up a 


ANN REASONS AND RHYMES 87 

rhyme saying how you feel, it would do you 
lots of good. Couldn’t you?” 

“Too old a dog to learn new tricks,” said 
the old man wearily. “You’re quite a phi¬ 
losopher, aren’t you?” 

“I don’t know exactly what that is,” said 
Ann. “But, never mind. Perhaps I can 
make up a verse for you, if you will keep 
quiet a minute.” 

There was surely a glint of amusement in 
the eyes now, but Ann did not see it. Her 
tam was on the floor and her head was bent 
in unconscious concentration. 

“I have one,” she said, after a moment. 
“The third line isn’t very good, but see if 
this isn’t the way you feel: 

“I’m just as sick as I can be, 

I feel quite mis-er-a-bly; 

I will not cry, I will not beg, 

But everything’s like a scrambled egg.” 

Smiley, behind the portieres, clapped his 
hand suddenly over his mouth and tiptoed 


88 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


hastily down the hall, and, in so doing, he 
missed the first genuine chuckle that had 
come from his master in many a month. 

“Scrambled eggs, eh! You’ve hit it, 
child; you’ve hit it. A fine big mess, with 
everybody scurrying around, doing things 
wrong, and me sitting here a useless hulk!” 

“You see,” said Ann delightedly. “I told 
you so! There it is, all coming out of you. 
Now we can talk it over and get it right. 
You see, you aren’t a useless what-did-you- 
call-it at all. I’ve noticed how you can 
make people do things. There’s something 
about your voice and your eyes that’s just 
as—as wise!” 

Ann’s voice vibrated with feeling. 

“Really, it’s almost better that you have 
got a—a lame leg, because you can sit still 
here and think things out for people and get 
them to do them.” 

“You’d think you could! But what can 
a child like you know about it? If you 


ANN REASONS AND RHYMES 


89 


don’t stand over them, they do as they like— 
and my ‘standing-over’ days are done.” 

“Well, then,” said Ann thoughtfully, “I’d 
just get away from them all. You’re not so 
poor as Nessie, with her lame leg. I’d just 
take all my money and ride away in the auto¬ 
mobile to the most beautiful places I could 
find. And there are ships, too, you know. 
Uncle Bob says they are as nice as hotels, 
nowadays, and they go sailing off to the most 
wonderful lands. Uncle Bob’s been to 
China. Did you ever go to China, Mr. 
Trowbridge?” 

“Not China. That didn’t come in my 
line, young lady. Europe and South 
America were my jaunts.” 

“South America!” Ann’s eyes were spark¬ 
ling. “Have you really been to South 
America? Tell me about it, won’t you. 
I’d rather hear it than a story, any day.” 

She drew up her chair close to her host, 
and as he looked into the glowing, upturned 



90 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


face, the old man felt something he had 
thought dead, stir within him. Memories 
of his vigorous manhood kindled and 
glowed, and, unwittingly, he began to talk. 

Smiley, spellbound for a while, finally tip¬ 
toed once more to the kitchen. 

“The child’s got ’im talking,” he told the 
rest—“talking without a grunt or a growl, 
and ’e’s sending ’er over to the cabinets to 
bring out all ’is old stuff. Hain’t she the 
beatingest, a little thing like ’er?” 

For a breathless half-hour on Ann’s part 
the voice went on. 

“Oh,” said the child at last, “isn’t it won¬ 
derful to have been to all those places and 
brought back all these lovely things. I’ve 
always thought it would be such fun to go 
off in a ship and bring home loads of things 
for people that couldn’t go. I call it ‘my 
ship with silver wings,’ from a verse I made 
up. It was that verse that made Uncle Bob 
take me from his family.” 

Little by little Ann’s own story came out, 



ANN REASONS AND RHYMES gi 

and Mr. Trowbridge, in his turn, listened. 

“I love that little verse,” said Ann finally. 
“Sometimes, when I’m the least bit down¬ 
hearted, I say it over, because it makes a 
pretty picture for me. Maybe, if you 
learned it, you could shut your eyes and see 
it, too.” 

“Well, let’s hear it,” said her host, and 
in her clearest voice Ann repeated: 

“If I were a ship with silver wings, 

I’d fill myself full of the loveliest things, 

And bring them over the deep blue seas 
To all little girls without families.” 

The old man beside her was so still that 
Ann was afraid he had not heard, but, at last, 
he said, “A ship with silver wings!” 

“Can you see it?” whispered the little girl. 
But instead of answering, Mr. Trowbridge 
looked up with a suggestion of his old 
haughtiness. 

“Why did you come?” he asked. 

Ann took his fine old hand in her warm 


92 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


young ones, and, for a second, she laid her 
cheek upon it. 

“I was afraid you were lonely,” she said. 
“And sometimes, you know, with Uncle Bob 
away all day and no children about here, I 
get a little lonely, too, and I thought, maybe, 
we could be kind of companions. Perhaps, 
on rainy days, I could bring my checkers or 
some other game you would like.” 

“I see,” said the old man. “On rainy 
days; all right. Smiley!” 

Smiley handed Ann her fallen tarn as 
though she were the highest lady in the land. 

“Good-by, miss,” he said, politely, as he 
opened the door for her, and then, bending 
softly, to Ann’s surprise, he whispered in her 
ear in quite human tones, “Come hagain.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THANKSGIVING 

A NN had been taking music-lessons 
for over a year now, and was be¬ 
ginning this year to show real 
progress. While, with her school work and 
recreation, she had little time for practice, 
she and Janie had decided upon a regular 
half-hour each day before dinner, to be spent 
at Miss Starr’s fine piano. How those half- 
hours did drag at first, but now that she was 
able to play simple melodies, practice time 
was happier for Ann. 

Sometimes, when the music suggested it, 
she made little songs to go with it, and her 
glad voice, full of tenderness or jollity, often 
halted Robert Fairlee at the doorway in a 
quick surge of affection for the youthful mu¬ 
sician. But the words, when he caught 

93 


94 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


them, caused him often as quick amusement. 

One evening soon after Ann’s visit to Mr. 
Trowbridge, he stopped quietly at the door¬ 
way of the living-room to hear her sing 
sorrowfully to slow music: 

“Little lambs upon the hill 
You are so white, you are so still. 

Your lives are full of peace, I know, 

As to and fro you gently go. 

O little lambs, you are so sweet, 

Why will they cut you up to eat!” 

“Nancy, Nancy!” laughed her uncle. “I 
don’t see why, with your sentiments, you 
aren’t a vegetarian out and out.” 

“I think I will be,” Ann declared stoutly. 
“Just think of eating the poor, dear animals! 
We make fun of lots of things people used 
to do. I bet you anything, Uncle Bob, that 
a hundred years from now children will say: 
‘Oh, weren’t folks funny years ago—they 
used to eat cows.’ ” 

“Hush! You spoil my appetite, Nancy,” 



THANKSGIVING 


95 


said her uncle in mock distress. “And you 
know how I like a nice juicy steak! I sup¬ 
pose, from your sad strains, it’s lamb chops 
to-night.” 

“No, I think it’s cutlet,” laughed Ann in 
her turn. “Don’t let’s talk about it.” 

She sprang up from the piano-bench. 
“Oh, Uncle Bob, there’s a letter from Fenly 
for you. It must be something important, 
for Uncle John almost never writes. I’ll 
get it for you.” 

“Hm-m, sure enough, it’s from John.” 
Mr. Fairlee opened the letter and scanned 
the page quickly. “Well, everything seems 
to be all right. I thought, too, they might be 
in some trouble. What do you think, puss? 
He wants us all to come to the farm for 
Thanksgiving dinner.” 

“He does! What, Aunt Margaret and 
the children and all of us! Oh, what fun! 
I’ve never been to the country in the winter¬ 
time, but Mary says it’s lovely. Could we 
stay all night, Uncle Bob?” 


96 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Hold on! I haven’t said yet that we 
were going at all! I’ll have to talk it over. 
I couldn’t stay over-night very well, and I 
don’t believe Ted could. We’ll see what 
Margaret and Rachel have to say.” 

“Aunt Rachel will say, ‘No,’ ” Ann said 
dismally. 

“Perhaps not. Old John seems to have 
set his heart upon a family dinner—says we 
haven’t had one for years, and that’s true. 
Not since—not since your mother left us, 
little Ann.” 

“I’ll be there in her place,” said-the child 
in a low voice. “I’ll have to be very good 
to take her place, won’t I, Uncle Bob, dar¬ 
ling? Am I very like her?” 

“A great deal,” said her uncle gently. 
“But you have something she did not have; 
you have your father’s vigor and his fine up¬ 
standing look. Keep right on the way 
you’re going, Nancy girl, and you’ll be a 
credit to both of them. Now about this 



THANKSGIVING 


97 


Thanksgiving party. I suppose you’d like 
to go, wouldn’t you?” 

“Oh, I’d love it, and I’d be glad to see 
Mary again, and Jack and Florence and the 
precious baby. What did Uncle John say 
about them all?” 

“Not much,” Uncle Bob looked over the 
note once more. “Oh, yes, he says they have 
the school-teacher with them this year, and 
she’s giving Mary music-lessons.” 

“Isn’t that splendid! Mary will be so 
happy. She’s always afraid I’m going to get 
ahead of her. I shouldn’t wonder but that 
she spends hours over those old exercises.” 

Ann thought a great deal about her coun¬ 
try cousins that week, especially after a let¬ 
ter came from Mary, urging her to beg the 
family to come. “I’ve a new plaid skirt and 
a new piece on the piano,” wrote Mary. 
“Do come, Ann.” 

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Uncle Bob 
said at last, after conference with the aunt- 


98 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


ies, “I’ll write John that we’ll come. But 
the train service to Fenly is poor at this time 
of the year, so I believe I’ll ask Jackson to 
let me have a closed car for the day. Then 
we can go and come home when we please.” 

Ann threw both arms about him. “Oh, 
you’re the best Thinker of Things,” she said. 
“I do love to ride in an automobile. Will it 
be one like William’s and my old man’s 
across the street?” 

“Not nearly so elegant. Just an ordinary 
limousine, but it will be comfortable for 
Rachel and the youngsters. An open car 
and a climbing road for us, Nancy, when 
we ride alone, but not this time.” 

“Oh, tra-la-la, won’t it be fun 1” sang Ann, 
and ran to tell Janie about the plan. 

Janie’s bright old eyes shone when she 
heard it. 

“Maggie will be that glad. She was wish¬ 
ing for me to stuff the duck, but I tell her it’s 
what Master Robert is going to do that I’m 


THANKSGIVING 


99 


waiting to hear. Weel—weel—all a-going 
to the country in a fine gr-and car! All of 
ye?” 

“Aunt Rachel, too,” Ann told her. 
“Can’t you see Aunt Rachel sitting on the 
back seat, all bundled up! Oh, Janie, 
hadn’t we better get out my last winter’s coat 
and see if it fits me. I’ve grown a lot, 
haven’t I?” 

“Just like a foot-rule getting to be a yard¬ 
stick,” said the old woman. “But it’s a guid 
coat still. We maun na spend too much 
of your Uncle Robert’s money. He’s na 
canny for a young man. ’Tis saving for a 
hame and young uns o’ his ain he should be.” 

“You don’t think I’m costing him too 
much, Janie, do you?” Ann asked anxiously. 

“Na, na, but dinna ye be asking for new 
coats and such,” said Janie shrewdly. “ ’Tis 
his wimmin folks that always will be having 
to do the saving for Master Robert. Just 
you say that the auld coat’s guid enou yet, 


) 

> 

1 






IOO 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


and he’ll take your word for it. ’Tis the 
truth, ye ken, Ann, those blue things aye look 
alike, one to the ither.” 

The last year’s dark blue chinchilla did 
indeed look well enough, and very warm and 
comfortable the chilly Thanksgiving morn¬ 
ing that the family all started for the farm. 
Ann, sitting proudly beside her uncle on the 
front seat, would not have cared if she had 
been wearing the shabby brown coat that 
had been brought out for her so many win¬ 
ters before Uncle Bob had come home from 
China. She turned a happy face to the back 
seat where sat Aunt Rachel and Aunt Mar¬ 
garet and Uncle Ted. In front of them, on 
the two extra seats which had been pulled 
out for them, Tom and Peggy sat beaming 
and bubbling with excitement. 

“Are you covered up, darlings?” Ann 
asked them in the motherly tone she always 
assumed toward them. “It’s a long ride to 
Fenly, isn’t it, Uncle Bob? Oh, I wish it 
would snow. Wouldn’t it be fun!” 


THANKSGIVING 


101 


“Here! here! Don’t wish anything like 
that on me. I can drive, but I never pick a 
blizzard for it if I can help it,” said Uncle 
Bob. 

But, as if in answer to Ann’s wish, a few 
snowflakes began to fall before they reached 
Fenly. A cold wind, too, sprang up, and 
Robert Fairlee was glad when, after a two- 
hour ride, Ann exclaimed: “Oh, we’re al¬ 
most there. There’s that funny blue house 
that belongs to the Italian family, and over 
there is Johnson’s red barn. We’ll be there 
now before you know it, Uncle Bob.” 

“I’m not sorry. My hands are not used to 
this wheel, and I’ll be glad of a good open 
fire. I think we’ll do justice to some tur¬ 
key and a few pumpkin pies, eh, Ann?” 

“O-ooh,” squealed the little girl beside 
him. “I haven’t thought anything about be¬ 
ing hungry, but I am. Oh, Uncle Bob, look 
at that old woman. See, she’s waving at us.” 

At Ann’s exclamation her uncle slowed 
down and backed carefully to the side of the 


102 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


road, where an old woman was standing. 
From her upturned coat collar and queer 
black hat her face looked out, blue with cold. 
The old eyes she raised to them were misty. 

“Oh, sorr,” she said in a rich Irish brogue, 
“it’s sorry I am to be stopping you, but it’s 
that bewildered I am. Could you be telling 
me the way to the trains?” 

“The trains? Now let me see! Ted, 
where is the depot from here, do you know?” 

Uncle Ted wasn’t sure. “The motor road 
and railroad don’t run together to Fenly,” 
said he. “Don’t you remember, we crossed 
the railroad twice.” 

“I think it’s over that way,” Ann pointed 
vaguely. “If I were starting from Uncle 
John’s, I could find it.” 

“Aunt Margaret leaned over to look at the 
woman. “Are you sure there is a train at 
this time of day?” she asked in her quick 
practical fashion. “I thought there was 
only a night train to town now.” 


THANKSGIVING 


103 


“It’s not sure I am about anything at all, 
at all,” cried the poor woman, wringing her 
hands in despair. “I left home early this 
morning, miss, to come here and spend the 
day with my darter. Mollie,—that’s my 
other darter,—she found she had to be stay¬ 
ing on the day at her place, and she sez to 
me, she sez: ‘Mom, I ain’t going to have 
you a-staying here alone, and on Thanksgiv¬ 
ing, too. Pack yourself up and go to see 
Nora. She’ll be that glad to have you, and 
the children, too.’ But the holy saints be¬ 
friend me! The old train it was so slow, a- 
stopping at every hen-coop, and when I 
walked to Nora’s house, begorra, it was all 
shut up and them all away. Whether it’s to 
town they’ve gone, or to Timmy’s mother, 
you never could tell. And if there’s no 
train till evening, as you’re saying, miss, 
whatever shall I be doing! It’s that perish¬ 
ing with the cold I am this minute!” 

Two big tears welled out from the dim 



104 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


eyes and rolled over the cold button-like 
nose. Tom and Peggy looked on, much in¬ 
terested. 

“Better pack her in and take her as far as 
John’s, hadn’t we?” said Uncle Ted in his 
low, quiet voice. “He can tell her what 
she’d better do.” 

“Yes, that would be best,” decided Aunt 
Margaret. “Don’t you think so, Rachel?” 

“Now she’s here,” said her sister tartly. 
“Never have any heads about them, these 
people. Sheep, that’s all they are!” 

But Aunt Margaret was already lifting 
Peggy back to her lap, and Uncle Ted was 
out explaining to the old woman and help¬ 
ing her into the vacant seat. As with 
a child, her bewilderment and sadness 
changed to confidence and delight. 

“ ’Tis a gra-a-and automobile you’ve got 
now, shure, and it’s good people you air to 
be sharing it with a poor body like Mary 
Mooney. It was that perishing with the 
cold I was, and not knowing my way at all, 


THANKSGIVING 


i os 


at all, being over from the old country but 
six months just.” 

“Oh, what country?” asked Ann, turning 
around, and wondered why Uncle Bob 
laughed. 

“Ireland, to be shure, miss. Mollie, she 
would have me come across, and Nora here 
already with the chillen, and the two of them 
sending the money for me to come. It’s that 
sorrit they’d be, the both of them, could they 
see me the day!” 

“We will arrange things for you when we 
get to the farm,” Aunt Margaret told her in 
her smooth pleasant voice. “My brother 
will know all about the trains.” 

“And there’s the north pasture, now,” said 
Ann. “Just over there is where I saw Wil¬ 
liam stuck in the bushes, the first day we 
started to be friends. We’ll soon be there, 
now.” 

In a few moments, indeed, they came in 
sight of the farmhouse. Little faces were 
watching from the window, and the next 


106 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

second all of Uncle John’s children, led by 
Mary, like young, wild ducks, came flying 
down to meet them. With cries of delight, 
they threw themselves upon Ann, as she 
sprang out, then stood back, abashed, as the 
others, whom they saw so seldom, climbed 
out of the car. Little Jack and Florence 
looked shyly at Peggy and Tom, glad of 
playmates of their own age, but not knowing 
what to say to them. But Aunt Flo, calling 
a cheery greeting, hurried them all into the 
big, old-fashioned room where Uncle Bob 
found the hoped-for open fire, with Uncle 
John and the new teacher beside it, smiling 
a welcome. 

After they had all been introduced to Miss 
Wheeler, a pretty, brown-eyed young lady, 
whom Mary plainly adored, Aunt Margaret 
quietly explained the presence of Mrs. 
Mooney. 

“Why, there isn’t another train to Mem- 
ford until sometime this afternoon,” ex¬ 
claimed Uncle John. 


THANKSGIVING 


107 


The poor old woman gazed at him speech¬ 
less, in fresh perplexity, but Aunt Flo laid 
her hand kindly upon her arm. 

“Oh, that’s all right,” she said. “Your 
daughters will not worry about you, because 
each thinks you are with the other. And 
you can stay right here until train-time.” 

“Might as well ride back to town with us; 
we have to start before dark,” called out 
Uncle Bob. 

Mrs. Mooney’s face, now rosy from the 
welcome, warmth, and friendliness, shone 
her gratitude. 

“Shure it must have been the Blessed 
Mary herself put me in the way of you,” said 
she. “And perhaps,” she said to Aunt Flo, 
“you’ll be letting an old body help a mite 
with the dinner.” 

“Of course you may,” laughed Aunt Flo. 
“Come, we’ll go out now and see what you 
think of things. There are two turkeys 
cooking in the oven this minute.” 

“Two turkeys!” cried Tommy. “Did 


108 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

you hear that, Mother? Two turkeys!” 

“Yes, sir,” said little Jack, capering 
around. “And pies and real peanuts like we 
had at the circus, only these have their shells 
off!” 

“O my!” sang happy Ann. “I can 
hardly wait.” She threw her arms about 
Mary, and together they ran upstairs to view 
Mary’s new treasures and talk over every¬ 
thing that had happened since Ann’s visit 
the summer before. 

“Miss Wheeler has my room, now,” Mary 
told her, as Ann naturally opened the door 
of the room she and Mary had shared for 
many seasons. “Mother has put a cot-bed 
in the children’s room for me, but I don’t 
mind. I’d rather have Miss Wheeler here. 
Don’t you think she’s pretty, Ann?” 

“Oh, awfully sweet!” declared her cousin 
enthusiastically. “I liked her right away, 
Mary.” 

Uncle Bob evidently did, too, for when the 


THANKSGIVING 


iog 

little girls came back into the big room, he 
was still beside the teacher, laughing and 
talking. 

Ann, watching them, had a sudden idea. 
Perhaps it was Miss Wheeler who was to be 
the wife for Uncle Bob, the happy some one 
who was to cook his Friday night dinners 
and play the piano for him and be his family 
while Ann herself was away learning to be 
a real person. So sudden and strong was the 
notion that Ann forgot to be polite. 

“Do you like to travel, Miss Wheeler?” 
she asked out of a clear sky. 

The young lady stopped her conversation 
and looked up in some astonishment. 

“To travel! Why, I don’t know, dear. 
I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to travel. 
I don’t believe I really care much about it. 
I think I rather like to settle down in a cozy 
house with books and music and people I 
like. Why do you ask, dear?” 

“Oh, nothing!” Ann said in some confu- 


IIO 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


sion, but she looked hard at Uncle Bob for a 
moment, and he, suddenly catching her 
meaning, got up quickly and poked at the 
log in the fireplace to hide his amusement. 

They were both grateful that Aunt Flo 
just then called them all for dinner, and at 
the sight of it, and the smell of it, and the 
jollity of it all, questions of travel were for¬ 
gotten. 

At the end of the dinner Ann made them 



“For once, I’ve had enough turkey” 





















THANKSGIVING 


hi 


all laugh by saying solemnly, “For once, 
I’ve had enough turkey.” 

“Better be sure, Nancy,” said Robert 
Fairlee. “You’re going to be a vegetarian 
after this, you know.” 

“Well, I am sure,” laughed his niece. 
“And I’m sleepy, too. I think we’d better 
all go in and play some games to give us 
some exercise. Uncle John, you help us 
think of some.” 

“Why not charades?” said her uncle, tak¬ 
ing her in his strong arms and lifting her 
through the doorway. “We used to play 
them out at our parties at home. Do you 
remember, Robert, even Rachel used to 
prance a little?” 

“Well, I’m through prancing,” said his sis¬ 
ter. “My knees won’t prance, but you go 
ahead and I’ll guess. I don’t believe my 
head’s stopped working yet.” 

So, with the rest as a guessing audience, 
Miss Wheeler and Uncle Bob, Uncle John 
and the children gave charades. In honor 


112 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


of Thanksgiving, they acted out “pumpkin” 
and “chestnuts” and “chrysanthemums”; 
then “Pilgrim” and “Massachusetts.” 

“Well, this is great fun,” said Aunt Flo 
at last. “But it isn’t getting the dishes 
washed.” 

She and Aunt Margaret went toward the 
kitchen, and Ann quietly went with them. 
She, too, had a family, and must share family 
work. But they found that Mrs. Mooney 
had skipped back to the kitchen long since, 
and, softly crooning to herself, had the dish¬ 
washing almost completed. 

“Why don’t you run back, Ann, and get 
every one out for a walk?” suggested Aunt 
Flo. “I am sure Uncle John has some new 
things he wants you all to see.” 

Ann flew back to the rest, and soon they 
were all out in the frosty air, Uncle John 
walking quietly with his brother and Uncle 
Ted, showing the improvements he had 
made about the beloved farm, telling them 
what he hoped to do in the spring. The 


THANKSGIVING 


113 

children, meanwhile, in a swinging row, 
with Miss Wheeler in the center, ran up and 
down the long lane and across rutty fields 
until their cheeks glowed and their breath 
came in quick, laughing gasps. 

Ann looked regretfully at the young 
teacher, herself as gay as a child. 

“She is so pretty and jolly—it’s a shame 
she isn’t the one,’’ she thought. 

Then she looked at Robert Fairlee, com¬ 
ing toward them, tall and straight and manly, 
and, obeying a sudden impulse, she ran and 
slipped her hands through his arm. 

“I guess I’m glad he hasn’t found her yet,” 
she said to herself, with true feminine change 
of view. 

“Hello, puss,” said her uncle. “Don’t 
you think it’s time our crowd was looking to¬ 
ward home. See those clouds up there— 
they hold snow, I’ll wager.” 

“We’re due for a storm,” said farmer 
John. “Perhaps you’d better start. I don’t 
want all of you lost, like Mrs. Mooney.” 



ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


114 

“Oh, Ann, I don’t want you to go,” wailed 
Mary. “Do stay over until Monday.” 

Ann hesitated. “I’m afraid not, Mary. 
I might get snowbound, and I’m trying not 
to miss a single day of school this year.” 

She and Mary ran ahead to tell Aunt 
Rachel and the others to get ready. When 
Uncle Bob and Uncle Ted came with the 
car they were all waiting for them, Mrs. 
Mooney overflowing with thanks for their 
protection and her good dinner. 

Serene and happy in the comfortable car, 
she and Peggy nodded and slept most of the 
way home. 

“Ask her where she lives, will you, Ted?” 
said Uncle Bob as they came into Memford. 
“We may as well drop her at her own door, 
poor old soul.” 

“Shure and I think I’ll be stopping at 
Molly’s place,” said Mrs. Mooney, awake in 
an instant. “Mrs. Kelly will be giving me 
a cup o’ tea, I know.” 

“Mrs. Kelly! Molly!” exclaimed Ann. 


THANKSGIVING 


U 5 

“Why, you don’t mean at Mr. Trowbridge’s, 
do you?” 

“Mr. Trowbridge it is, miss,” answered 
Mrs. Mooney, delightedly. “And is it 
knowing him, you are?” 

“Why, he lives right across the street from 
us,” said Ann. “Uncle Bob, do you hear?” 

“What Trowbridge is it?” asked Uncle 
Ted. “Not Lawrence K.—the banker?” 

“I really don’t know,” Uncle Bob told him. 
“Ann does all the visiting for the family. 
I’ve been so busy this fall I haven’t found out 
about any of my neighbors.” 

As she alighted near the familiar doorway, 
Mrs. Mooney, now thoroughly awake, 
beamed upon them all. 

“May your dinner sit light on your stum- 
micks, and the blessing of God be upon your 
heads! ’Tis many a night Mary Mooney’ll 
be praying for the lot of ye.” 

“Amen!” said Uncle Robert, smiling. 
“And many another such Thanksgiving for 
all of us!” 


CHAPTER VIII 


UNCLE BOB 

S OMETHING was the matter with 
Uncle Bob! It was some time after 
Christmas that Ann first noticed it— 
perhaps it had been there before, and Ann 
had been too occupied to see. The short 
winter days went by so quickly,—lessons and 
practice and play, and, on stormy after¬ 
noons, learning things from Janie, or play¬ 
ing games and talking with Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge, in the big house just across the 
street. 

They had become real friends, the little 
girl and the old man, and many a day, when 
the snow fell or the wind blew, and Mr. 
Trowbridge could not go for his ride, he 
seemed glad to have Ann run across with 
the checkers or dominoes or another of 


UNCLE BOB 


117 

her favorites. Smiley, then, with unusual 
alacrity, would place the little table between 
them, and they would sit, engrossed in the 
game and each other, until the great clock in 
the hall struck five, when Ann would re¬ 
member home duties, and, with a quick, af¬ 
fectionate touch or glance, would make her 
adieus. She never knew that there was a 
new and tender light in the hawk-like eyes 
that followed her from the window, or that, 
after she left him, the old man would sit 
quietly thinking, with a smile finally break¬ 
ing over his face or a low chuckle escaping 
from him. 

Uncle Bob himself often smiled as Ann 
gave grave or gay accounts of her little visits 
to their neighbor. 

“You’re a good child, Nancy, to be atten¬ 
tive to an old man.” 

“He’s kind to me, too,” responded Ann 
quickly. “He took my kitty, you know, and 
he tells me the loveliest stories. I’m glad 
he’ll let me come. He’s—he’s lonely, and 



118 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


I don’t think it’s nice to be lonely. I used 
to be lonely before you came, Uncle Bob, not 
because there weren’t enough people around, 
but because—something else.” 

It was in the quick look he gave her then 
that Ann first noticed it. Why, Uncle Bob 
was worried about something—he looked al¬ 
most afraid of something. 

“What’s the matter, Uncle Bob?” she 
asked quickly. 

“Matter, puss? Is anything the matter?” 

“I thought you looked—well—just a little 
unhappy,” Ann said vaguely. 

“Nothing to be unhappy about!” said her 
uncle briskly. “On the other hand, I’ve 
thought of a fine plan to further your educa¬ 
tion. What would you think if I came home 
early to-morrow, with a pair of ice-skates, 
and we went out to the pond and had a les¬ 
son?” 

“I’d say it was the last thing left to wish 
for,” said Ann, clasping her hands. “All 
the girls at school to-day were talking about 



UNCLE BOB 


ng 

going ice-skating, and I did want to learn, 
but I didn’t want to bother you about it.” 

“Well, it’s going to be fun instead of 
bother. It’s glorious, healthy exercise; 
you’ll love it, Nancy.” 

Ann did love it. Out on the pond the 
following afternoon, with her hands locked 



“I WANT TO TRY IT ALONE” 
















120 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


in her uncle’s strong ones, she took the les¬ 
son he had promised, but it wasn’t long be¬ 
fore she said, “I want to try it alone.” 

It was then that her summers of barefoot 
freedom at Fenly stood her in good stead, 
for her ankles were strong, and her whole 
body agile and graceful. 

“You’re going to make a skater, little 
girl,” said her uncle, coming back to swing 
her along with him when he saw her becom¬ 
ing tired. They stayed after the other skat¬ 
ers had departed, until the sky grew rosy with 
early sunset, and it seemed to Ann that they 
could fly right into the heart of it. She was 
having such a glorious time that she was 
sorry indeed when Uncle Bob said they must 
catch the next trolley home. 

“You’ll be too tired to eat dinner to-night, 
as it is,” said he, and, although Ann pro¬ 
tested, saying she could keep on for another 
hour, home they went. 

“Oh, I am sleepy,” Ann confessed by the 
time dinner was over. “I can hardly hold 


UNCLE BOB 


121 


my eyes open, but didn’t we have the best 
time!” 

Her uncle looked up and smiled, but, at 
the same time, that queer expression flitted 
across his face. 

This time the little girl said nothing, but 
the next day, after school, she mentioned it 
to Janie. 

“He’s a bit worrit about something,” said 
the old housekeeper easily. “Every one has 
troubles of his ain, lassie.” 

“But I don’t want him to have troubles! 
Why should he have troubles?” argued Ann. 

“Weel—if I didna ken the evenings he 
spends before that fire with his books, I’d say 
it was in love he was. ’Tis but natural, and 
late he is at it.” 

“I do wonder,” Ann said thoughtfully. 
“Perhaps he’s feeling sorry about Miss 
Wheeler at Uncle John’s. He did seem to 
like her, but, you see, Janie, she didn’t like 
to travel.” 

“When a mon and a lass air in love,” said 



122 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Janie wisely, “likes and dislikes, they make 
no difference—they all go into the same 
melting-pot. But dinna ye bother your 
bonny haid about it. Master Robert has 
nary a secret from auld Janie. It will come 
oot.” 

And out it did come that very evening. 

“Nancy,” said Uncle Bob, trying to speak 
casually, “what do you think? The com¬ 
pany wants me to go out to Sumatra!” 

“Sumatra! Why, where’s that?” ex¬ 
claimed Ann. 

“You’re a fine geography student, aren’t 
you ? It’s one of the islands south of India.” 

“India!” gasped Ann. “India! Oh, 
Uncle Bob, isn’t that exciting! And are we 
going? 

Her uncle looked at her very gently. 
“Nancy,” he said, “I guess I’ll have to go, 
but I don’t believe you can.” 

Ann gazed at him spellbound for a min¬ 
ute before she cried out: “Not go! Oh, 


UNCLE BOB 


123 


Uncle Bob! You said we’d always go to¬ 
gether! Not go!” 

Robert Fairlee came and gathered her 
into his arms. “I know, darling. It’s been 
worrying me for a couple of weeks. I hate 
like everything to go off and leave you here, 
but, you see, this is a business trip, pure and 
simple, and I don’t see how I can work you 
in on it. Will you try to look at it squarely 
and talk it over with me?” 

Ann sat upright with very red cheeks. 

“What will become of me if I don’t go?” 
she whispered. “Shall I have to go and live 
with Aunt Rachel?” 

“No,” said her uncle, smiling. “I don’t 
believe that old house would hold you now, 
dear. I went over and saw Aunt Margaret 
last night, and talked things over with her, 
and she will keep you while I’m away. 
After all, it’s only three months, puss. By 
June I’ll be back, and you and I will hop 
off somewhere for a vacation. We’ll both 


124 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


be so busy that the time will fly, and there are 
letters, you know.” 

But Ann’s head was buried in his shoul¬ 
der. For long moments she could not 
speak. Whenever she tried, there was a big 
lump in her throat that wouldn’t let the 
words come out. They came finally in a 
great rush of tears. 

“Uncle Bob! Oh, Uncle Bob! I knew 
there was something. If you go away like 
this, they’ll send you somewhere else, I know, 
and we’ll never live together again. Oh, 
why can’t they send somebody else?” 

“All the other chaps have families, sweet¬ 
heart. I’m the only single man that knows 
enough about the business to go.” 

“But I’m your family, and I love you so, 
I love you so! Why won’t they let me go 
with you? You always said I could.” 

“Don’t, Nancy!” said her uncle. “I feel 
like a wretch—just a miserable worm. I al¬ 
ways thought, if I did go off again, it would 
be to England or France or some such 


UNCLE BOB 


125 


place. But the Indies! The climate may 
be unhealthy for a little girl, and the accom¬ 
modations not good. I may have to stay 
right on the rubber plantations, for all I 
know. I swear to you, Nancy, that’s the 
only reason I’m leaving you behind. Won’t 
you be my good sensible girl and send me 
off with a cheerio?” 

“I’ll try,” said Ann with a quivering lip. 
“I didn’t mean to be naughty, but it’s so far 
away off there!” 

“Come, sit up, and I’ll tell you all about 
it. See what kind of a business woman you 
can be. There! That’s my girl! You see, 
Nancy, up to this time we have been buy¬ 
ing all of our rubber from England. Eng¬ 
land has great rubber plantations in India, 
and, so far, has had what we call a monopoly 
on it, and could charge us here in the United 
States whatever she liked. Now Sumatra 
belongs to the Dutch, and they will lease 
land there for growing rubber to reputable 
companies here in our country. My com- 


126 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

pany and several others see a fine chance to 
bring down, in a few years, the cost of the 
immense amount of rubber they use, and they 
are sending me out to investigate matters and 
make arrangements for them to grow their 
own rubber in Sumatra. It’s rather an 
honor to be chosen for this job, and it will 
mean an advancement, too, for me, which 
isn’t to be despised when I’ve a family to 
bring up. Do you realize, Nancy, that 
we’ve been here nearly two years, and in a 
few months we shall have to leave this house 
and find a new home, you and I?” 

“I just feel that we’ll never live together 
again,” said Ann in a low voice. “I know 
Aunt Rachel doesn’t approve of lots of 
things you let me do, and I just feel 
that-” 

“The goblins will get you if you don’t 
watch out!” laughed her uncle. “Oh, 
Nancy, poor child, don’t worry about that. 
Nobody will ever make me give you up. 
You’re mine to raise to a glorious woman- 



UNCLE BOB 


127 


hood, and I’ll not be cheated out of it. I’m 
going to get you to where you can stand 
on your own feet—high and dry and fair 
and square. As for Rachel, she’s all right, 
too, when you understand her, but I happen 
to know that she’s going this spring to Ver¬ 
mont to visit Marianna Hopkins.” 

“Aunt Rachel going away!” exclaimed 
Ann. “Why, I never knew her to go away!” 

“Almost every five years or so she packs 
her bags and goes to Marianna, who is the 
only person she knows that has been worthy 
of her life-long friendship. Yes, sir, Rachel 
and I will be traveling about the same time, 
Nancy. And Margaret and the children 
will be glad to have you.” 

“Aunt Margaret’s all right,” Ann said 
wistfully. “She’s good and kind and aw¬ 
fully sensible, but we don’t think the same 
thoughts, not like you and me, Uncle Bob.” 

“We’ll think them just the same. 
Thought-waves travel right across the ocean- 
waves,” said Mr. Fairlee cheerfully. “Only 


128 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


we’ll not think any more to-night. Let’s go 
to bed and wake up to see daylight on this. 
Things always look worse at night to little 
girls, especially sleepy little girls.” 

He held her close to him for a moment, 
then kissed her fondly and sent her up to the 
cozy pink-and-white room. 

Ann lay on the bed, wide-awake, for a 
long time, living over the happy safe nights 
she had spent in the little room, with Uncle 
Bob so often down below, beside the open 
fire. Were their wonderful times together 
indeed to end? Tired and perplexed, the 
little girl buried her head in her pillow and 
sobbed quietly. She never knew when she 
stopped and dropped off to sleep, but when 
she awoke it was seven o’clock of bright day, 
sunny day, happy day, just-as-usual day! 
“Oh, no, it wasn’t!” Her eyes felt queer, 
and there was something else. Now she re¬ 
membered! Ann’s chin began to quiver. 
Then she drew herself up and looked at her¬ 
self sternly in the glass. 


UNCLE BOB 


129 


“Ann Burdette! You’re a selfish old pig! 
When you’ve had him and everything all this 
time, you’re mean to try to make things 
hard for him. Now you behave yourself 
and smile and sing and get everything ready 
for him. You ought to be glad he isn’t go¬ 
ing off to war!” 

Dressing hurriedly, she ran down to tell 
Janie about it, but found that her uncle had 
already had a talk with her the night be¬ 
fore. Ann was surprised that Janie was tak¬ 
ing the departure of her beloved Master 
Robert so casually. 

“A bit o’ traipsing will na hurt him,” she 
said calmly. “ ’Tis in the nature o’ him. 
’Twill na be a bad thing for you and me, my 
bairn. There’s things that little Margaret 
will be better guiding you at, and, for my 
ain part, ’twill be a guid chance to clean up 
Maggie’s and take wee Nessie to the country 
for a spell.” 

“But won’t you be sorry to leave this darl- 


130 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


ing Starr House and everything?” asked 
Ann wonderingly. 

“Oh, aye, but I’ve learned to take what 
comes,” said the old woman. “ ’Tis aye the 
young that gets their back up and then cries 
when they get hurt. Learn to find your job 
where’er ye go, lassie, and ye’ll na be think¬ 
ing all time o’ yourself.” 

“That’s so,” said Ann gravely. “And I 
always have a job at Aunt Margaret’s. 
There’s Tom and Peggy—I can help lots 
more with them, now, and Aunt Margaret 
won’t be afraid to let me do errands. But 
you’ll come to see me, Janie, won’t you?” 

She threw her arms suddenly around the 
Scotch woman’s neck. Janie stroked the 
fair head tenderly. 

“Dinna ye greet, lassie,” she said. “ ’Tis 
but a turn in the road—’tis guid for us all to 
tread the highway at times.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, but it 
sounds pretty,” said Ann, smiling through 


UNCLE BOB 


131 

her tears. “Sometimes you talk just like a 
magazine, Janie, really you do. There! 
I’m not going to cry another time; there’ll be 
lots for us to do. And I’m going to write 
Uncle Bob a letter for every day he’s on the 
boat. Don’t tell him, though, will you? 
Here he comes! Do let’s have breakfast, 
Janie darling, and then I must simply fly 
to school.” 


CHAPTER IX 


AND AFTER ALL 

U NCLE BOB was to sail in three 
weeks, and Ann spent most of her 
spare time during those weeks, 
and all her spare money, buying or mak¬ 
ing little presents to be tucked away in his 
bags as surprises,—a book she had heard him 
say he wanted, a copy of his favorite maga¬ 
zine, a purple-bordered handkerchief to go 
with the purple birthday tie, and a needle- 
book neatly made and filled with needles al¬ 
ready threaded with colored darning-thread 
for his socks. 

“He probably won’t find anything he 
wants over there,” thought Ann one day 
about a week before the departure. “I won¬ 
der if they have stores. Oh, it will be so 
queer and wonderful. I want to go most 

132 



AND AFTER ALL 


133 


dreadfully bad, but I’m going to be a good 
sport about it. I’ll probably turn into a 
merry-go-round again, but I will be a merry 
one. There, those are all wrapped up, and 
I’ll get the steamer-letters. I hope he won’t 
mind there being only one for each week 
instead of each day. I didn’t know it took 
so long to get there. One, two, three, four! 
Oh, darling, I do hope you will like them 
and think of me.” 

Ann sat quiet at last, her hands in her lap. 
As she gazed from her letters about the 
lovely old room, her music on the piano, 
Uncle Bob’s books on the little table beside 
the fireplace, a chill feeling of loneliness and 
despair came on her and her head came down 
upon her arms. 

“Starr House! Starr House!” she whis¬ 
pered. “We’re going away from you. 
Maybe I’ll never see you or Miss Mary Starr 
or my dear old man again. Maybe some¬ 
thing will happen to Uncle Bob and I’ll 
never see him again.” 


134 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Then and there, in spite of all her good 
resolutions, Ann had a little cry all to her¬ 
self. It was not until she heard Janie down¬ 
stairs, moving busily about, that she wiped 
her eyes and gathered up her packages, to 
take them upstairs until they were needed. 
She was carefully wiping away all traces of 
her tears when she heard Janie calling her. 

“Would ye be a guid lass and help me pack 
up these cups and pans?” asked the house¬ 
keeper gently. “The boxes must gae to your 
Aunt Rachel’s in twa days’ time, if they’re 
to get there afore she shuts up the hoose. 
’Tis Friday this week she’s a-going, and 
she’ll have to hae our things all in certain 
places on that third floor afore she’ll stir a 
step. Ye ken that, Ann.” 

“I certainly do,” laughed the little girl. 
“She’s probably had Tillie chalk off the very 
spots where they’re to go. Why is she so 
fussy, Janie?” 

“I dinna ken, lassie; it’s wed she is to that 
auld hoose. And it was aye stiff-necked she 


AND AFTER ALL 


135 


were, Rachel. Na, na, bairn, ye’ll be break¬ 
ing every cup that way; put the papers be¬ 
tween them—so.” 



Janie kept Ann working 

Cheerfully talking, Janie kept Ann work¬ 
ing beside her until together they had 
packed all the things that were to go to the 
house on Madison Avenue. 

“Now do ye gae in the room and play me 
a jolly tune whilst I get the dinner, and, mind 
ye, it’s a jolly one,” said Janie finally. 
“Women will have their cry, but it ne’er gets 


































































136 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

them anywhere,” and then Ann knew that 
Janie had seen the traces of her tears. 

“What a baby I am,” she said to herself, 
walking slowly to the piano. “And dear 
Janie so good to me, too. I will be jolly— 
I will be jolly!” and humming gayly to her¬ 
self, Ann seated herself and played some of 
the old tunes the Scotch woman loved. It 
was not until she was interrupted by the 
ringing of the telephone a while later that 
she sprang up. But at that moment she 
heard her uncle come in and go to answer 
the call. 

“Yes, this is Robert,” she heard him say. 
“Oh, is that you, Margaret? What! Oh, 
I say, that’s a shame! Both of them? 
Where on earth did they pick that up? I 
suppose so, but don’t worry about them, sis, 
they handle these things differently from the 
way they did when you and I were kids. 
Better let me hunt you up a nurse or a maid, 
hadn’t you? Oh, Ted is, is he? Well, 
count on me to help out with it. Oh, 


AND AFTER ALL 


137 


yes! I did forget about her! Of course 
you can’t. Well, don’t worry about that. 
I’ll get her located. And let me know how 
they come along.” 

Ann stood poised on one foot. What had 
happened at Aunt Margaret’s? 

“What is the matter?” she asked breath¬ 
lessly, running out into the hall, where Rob¬ 
ert Fairlee still stood beside the telephone 
table. 

“Matter enough! Both of Margaret’s 
children are down with scarlet fever.” 

“Scarlet fever! Tom and Peggy! Oh, 
the poor darlings! Are they very sick?” 

“Not so very. Peggy’s pretty well under, 
but Tommy’s hardly sick at all. Margaret’s 
worried, of course, but they’ll come out all 
right—they’re healthy little customers. It’s 
you I’m thinking about.” 

“Me!” Ann stood stock-still. “Oh, good¬ 
ness, yes; I forgot. They won’t let me come 
to school while the children have it, will 
they?” 


138 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“You can’t go there at all,” said her uncle 
sharply. “You’re just at the age when scar¬ 
let fever’s apt to be serious. We’ll have to 
find some other place for you to stay.” He 
gazed at her in perplexity. “I suppose you 
could go to John’s. It would mean chang¬ 
ing schools, but there doesn’t seem to be any 
help for it, puss.” 

“But, U'ncle Bob, Miss Wheeler’s there 
now! Did you forget that? She has the 
room Mary and I always had.” 

“Great Scott, so she is! And they haven’t 
any other room.” 

Ann gazed back at him, trying to think. 
She felt topsy-turvy herself, but poor Uncle 
Bob! How hard it was for him to have to 
make new plans for her now, during his last 
week. 

“If Aunt Flo would put a cot in the 
dining-room, I could sleep on that. I 
wouldn’t mind. I love to sleep on a cot.” 

“Everybody does—for one night,” said 


AND AFTER ALL 


139 


Robert Fairlee briefly. “No, that wouldn’t 
do. A little growing girl needs a good bed 
for a good sleep. Besides, it wouldn’t be 
fair to crowd up old John. I suppose 
Rachel’s all set to go to Vermont, isn’t she?” 

“Her trunk’s all packed to go to-morrow, 
and Tillie’s going on Thursday.” Ann felt 
ashamed to think how glad she felt that she 
could truthfully tell him this. Wherever 
her next three months were to be spent, she 
could not help feeling glad that they were 
not to be spent at Aunt Rachel’s, cleaning 
house and staying indoors, being dutiful. 

“Well,” said poor Uncle Bob with a sigh. 
“We couldn’t stop Rachel now—she’d not 
get started again for another ten years. I 
suppose the only thing to do is to get Janie 
to stay here with you until Margaret’s chil¬ 
dren are better. Come, Nancy, we will go 
and have dinner, and talk it over with her.” 

Janie listened to their story with many 
shakings of her head and many a “Weel— 



140 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


weel—weel.” But when Uncle Bob pro¬ 
posed that she stay there and take charge of 
Ann and Starr House, she looked at him 
doubtfully and hesitantly. 

“Master Robert,” said she, “I’m an auld 
woman, and to take responsibility of ain per¬ 
son’s bairn and ither person’s hoose would 
try my speerit sore, but take you the nicht to 
think it o’er, and if the Lord doesna show 
you a way oot, I’ll ken my duty and bide.” 

“Janie, you’re a treasure—you always have 
been,” said Robert Fairlee, laying his hand 
gently on her arm. “If I hadn’t been put¬ 
ting things on you all my life, I wouldn’t 
be asking this of you now. This upset to 
my plans has come all of a sudden, and I’m 
only a poor helpless man. If you and Ann 
weren’t such trumps, I don’t know what I’d 
do.” 

“Ye’d get yourself a wife,” said Janie, 
grimly. 

“There she goes again, Nancy,” laughed 
her uncle. “She’ll have me married yet— 


AND AFTER ALL 


141 

that woman. Bring in the dessert, Janie; 
perhaps in a sweet we may find inspiration 
to solve our problem.” 

Ann looked at him admiringly. It was 
not every one who could be so jolly and 
good-tempered in the face of a difficulty. 
Her uncle, sipping his coffee, looked up and 
caught her glance. 

“Confound it, Nancy,” he said suddenly, 
“for two cents, I’d take you with me.” 

The child looked at him sadly. “I wish 
you could. It seems as though I’m just a 
worry to everybody.” 

Her uncle jumped up suddenly. “By 
George, it looks like the way out, to me. If 
I can get passage for you, I believe I’ll do 
it.” 

Ann sat back in her chair, staring at him 
with wide-open eyes. 

“Oh, Uncle Bob!” was all she could say. 

“It sounds wild,” said her uncle, “but it’s 
moving in a straight line instead of in circles, 
the way we’ve been trying to do. The trip 


142 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


itself would be wonderful for you, and I 
guess I could find somebody over there to 
look after you. You’d like it, wouldn’t 
you?” 

“Oh, I would, I would!” cried Ann, 
springing up. “I’d die if you left me now! 
Let’s tell Janie, shall we? Janie! Janie!” 

“Janie! Janie!” shouted Uncle Bob. 

The old housekeeper came running in, to 
find them both prancing like a couple of 
clowns. When, together, they tried to tell 
her what they had thought of, Janie sank 
helplessly into a chair. 

“I’ve no going by such hasty notions,” she 
said at last. “Didna I say take the nicht to 
think it o’er-” 

“But, Janie,” said Robert Fairlee gayly, 
“I’ve no ‘nicht’ to spare. If Ann’s to go at 
all, I must be at Munson’s office before nine, 
to see about her passage. Now let’s all be 
sensible and leave it this way. If I can get 
accommodations for Ann, she’s going. If 
I can’t, you and she will stay here and do the 



AND AFTER ALL 


143 


best you can. Come now, both of you, is 
that a go?” 

“Oh, yes, of course it is, darling!” said 
Ann. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes 
like summer stars. 

“Do ye just the same gae doon on your 
knees and ask licht frae the Lord,” said Janie 
soberly. 

“I think I’ve had it,” said Uncle Bob, smil¬ 
ing. “I’m going over now to see Rachel, 
and hear her rage about this new idea, and 
then I’ll stop and see what I can do for poor 
Margaret. Meanwhile you and Ann go to 
bed and sleep as though this were to be your 
home for a thousand years.” 

Ann threw her arms about his neck. 
“I’m going to pray that there’ll be a corner 
somewhere on that boat for me. But if it 
costs a lot, Uncle Bob, I’ll put it all down on 
paper and I’ll pay you back when I’m big.” 

“Bless your heart, Nancy. Your just be¬ 
ing along will pay me back. I know, now, I 
haven’t felt right about leaving you. I’ve 


144 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


had a queer, heavy feeling that’s all gone 
now. Here’s hoping, and good-night.” 

“It’s all right for a big man like Uncle Bob 
to be so matter-of-fact about it,” said Ann, 
as she lay cuddled in bed an hour later. 
“But when you’re only twelve years old, and 
are going half-way around the world,— 
maybe! O-ooh! I feel so queer I don’t be¬ 
lieve I’ll ever go to sleep. I mustn’t think 
about it,” she told herself again and again. 
And presently she didn’t. Tired out by the 
excitement of it all, it was not ten minutes 
before, without even a dream, she lay asleep. 


CHAPTER X 


TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


A LL the next morning in school Ann 
kept wondering what word Uncle 
Bob would receive from the steam¬ 
ship company. Was she to go or stay at 
home? How could a girl keep her mind 
upon lessons in the midst of such a flurry of 
thoughts. 

As Uncle Bob had suggested, she said 
nothing about the matter at school, waiting 
until it should be definitely decided. Just 
the same, everybody wondered what had hap¬ 
pened to Ann Burdette, for she alternated 
between first caroling forth her answers in 
the gayest of tones, and then presenting the 
vaguest of looks to the simplest questions. 
“What’s' struck you?” Thera Graham 

asked her bluntly at recess. “One minute 

145 


146 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


you look as though some one had left you a 
million dollars, and the next as though you’d 
lost your best friend.” 

Ann laughed. “I suppose I do. I’m ter¬ 
ribly excited about something, Thera, but I 
can’t tell you what it is until to-morrow. 
Oh, I do hope—” She stood still and 
clasped her hands. 

“There you go again,” said her classmate. 
“Come on out and work it off on a base-ball. 
I don’t believe it amounts to a row of pins 
anyway. You do get excited over the queer¬ 
est things, Ann.” 

“I know I do—but this! Oh, well, let’s 
go! Beat you to the pine-tree, Thera.” 

School was over at last, and Ann ran most 
of the way home. Uncle Bob was to tele¬ 
phone Janie what he had decided upon, and 
Janie would tell Ann at lunch-time. 

“Tell me quick, Janie; tell me quick!” 
cried the little girl, bursting in upon Janie 
at least ten minutes earlier than usual. 




TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


147 


“Weel,” said the old woman, deliberate as 
ever, “you’re to go—that’s it! Master Rob¬ 
ert—he telephoned about eleven o’clock, and 
he said: ‘Everything’s fixed up, Janie; 
Ann’s to go.’ ” 

But Ann was dancing around her in cir¬ 
cles, her breath coming in gasps. 

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! 
I’m going—going—going!” she cried. 
Then, seeing Janie standing there, she threw 
her arms about her contritely. 

“Oh, poor Janie, I’ll be so sorry to leave 
you. Oh, Janie, all I wish now is that you 
could go too.” 

Janie’s face crinkled, at last, into a smile. 
“Not Janie!” she said. “I do na hold with 
furrin’ parts, lass. It’s glad I’ll be for the 
lang stay wi’ Maggie and the bairns. Mas¬ 
ter Robert, now, he’s used to the queer lands. 
He’ll be taking right good care of ye, Ann, 
though you’re na sae big a body to be gaeing 
sae far awa’.” 






148 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


She put her arm around Ann affection¬ 
ately, and the little girl clung to her, quiet at 
last. 

“I’ll bring you a present,” she said. 
“And one for Nessie, and one for poor little 
Tom and Peggy. I wonder how they are 
to-day. Have you heard?” 

“Your Aunt Margaret telephoned na sae 
lang ago. She says, if you’re not to be there, 
she’ll have no nurse for the childie; she’ll be 
minding them herself. And right she is, 
for ’tis in for a long siege they are, I’m fear¬ 
ing.” 

“I’m sorry they’re sick,” said Ann from a 
full heart. “I’m not glad they got sick so I 
could go. I’m not, Janie.” 

“Janie kens that, my lamb. ’Tis the pur¬ 
pose o’ God working through us, I reckon. 
He works in a mysterious way His wonders 
to perform.” 

“If you mean my going to Sumatra is won¬ 
derful, it certainly is. On a big ship on a 


TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


149 


real ocean! Oh, I can hardly wait! I’m 
going to call William up and tell him. If 
he doesn’t call this an adventure, I don’t 
know what he will call it. He was so ex¬ 
cited about going just to England last sum¬ 
mer.” 

“Ye’d best gae upstairs and make a thor¬ 
ough gaeing o’er your bureau-drawers, las¬ 
sie. Best put one side everything ye dinna 
need, and ’twill make your last packing 
easy.” 

“That’s so, Janie. I’ll do that right 
away,” sang Ann, and a few minutes later, 
after a gay telephone conversation with an 
astonished William, she was up in her lit¬ 
tle bedroom, looking over her store of be¬ 
longings. As she sorted them over she 
looked about the pretty cretonne-hung room 
with her usual instinctive appreciation 
of it. Ann thought it was a lovely guest¬ 
room. Its pink-and-white simplicity would 
make a young person sweetly rested, and 


iso 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


an old person beautifully young again. 

“Oh, Miss Mary Starr!” the little girl 
cried suddenly. “I wish I could see you be¬ 
fore I go. I just know you are young and 
charming. If you’re here when I come 
back, I am coming to see you. I’ll run over 
when I come to see my dear old man. 
There! that’s another person I must go and 
visit before we start. Goodness! I’ll be so 
busy! Get on with your work, Ann Bur¬ 
dette, or you’ll never be ready by next Wed¬ 
nesday. I guess I’d better ask Uncle Bob 
to help me make out a program for every 
day, now, so I’ll not forget anything.” 

But when Uncle Bob came home that eve¬ 
ning, programs and such things were for¬ 
gotten, for he was laden down with books 
and pictures, telling about their steamer and 
the ports at which it would stop; about Su¬ 
matra, where they would land after weeks of 
sailing; about the rubber plantations Uncle 
Bob was to inspect. Ann’s head reeled with 
new facts and questions. 


TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


151 

“Will there be tigers and snakes and 
things?” she asked once, looking up in some 
awe from some jungle pictures. 

“Perhaps not where we shall be,” said her 
uncle, smiling. “We shall be with people 
who know the country and can protect us 
from its dangers. Let us go with a calm and 
appreciative mind, Nancy; that will be our 
best safeguard. I’m relieved to find that 
while the climate of Sumatra is hot, it isn’t 
unhealthful. What I’m wondering about, 
now, is whether you’re going to be a good 
sailor or not.” 

“I think I shall,” Ann said seriously. “I 
only hope I won’t miss anything on that boat. 
To think of sailing right through that beau¬ 
tiful Mediterranean Sea!” 

“Straight to Trieste—that old town where 
all the people will leave the steamer and take 
trains or boats to other places. We, our¬ 
selves, shall change steamers there.” 

“Where is Trieste?” asked Ann. “I can’t 
seem to remember.” 



152 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Get a map and we’ll look it up,” said 
Robert Fairlee enthusiastically. “My! ev¬ 
erything looks differently to me, now you’re 
going, Nancy. It will be great fun travel¬ 
ing together, won’t it?” 

“Oh, joyful!” Ann whispered, giving his 
arm a little squeeze. 

She ran to get her geography-book, and 
together they bent over the pages showing 
Central Europe. 

“Here it is!” cried Ann. “Why, it’s in 
Austria-Hungary. Would you have be¬ 
lieved it? I thought it was in Italy or 
Greece, didn’t you? Dear me, just study¬ 
ing geography will be dull after this, won’t 
• 

it? Won’t the girls be surprised when I 
tell them to-morrow!” 

They certainly were! Ann, gay and 
starry-eyed, carried the news to school the 
following morning. Seeing the girls all 
gathered about her, Miss Payton herself 
came up to hear. 

“I was on my way to tell you, Miss Pay- 


TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


153 


ton,” Ann said. “And I wanted to ask if 
you could give me an outline of the school 
work for the rest of the year, so I could try 
to keep up with my class.” 

“Indeed I will, dear,” said the principal. 
“You’ll be ahead of all of us in seeing that 
part of the world first-hand. I shall have to 
have you come into seventh grade next year 
and lecture.” 

“Ride an elephant for me, Ann, will 
you?” said Miss Berry. “I always wanted 
to ride an elephant.” 

“It’s nifty for you, all right,” sighed Vir¬ 
ginia Thompson, walking off with Ann as 
the right of a best chum, “but what shall I 
do?” 

“I’ll write to you every week, Jinny, and 
tell you about everything,” promised Ann. 
“I only hope you’ll remember to write to me 
and tell me all the news.” 

“I will, darling, and I’ll send you the cop¬ 
ies of the new school paper.” 

“Yes, but who’s going to play first base if 


154 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Ann goes?” grumbled Thera Graham, com¬ 
ing up. 

“Get Adelaide Marshall, she’s good,” sug¬ 
gested Ann. “You’ll write to me, too, won’t 
you, Thera?” 

“I don’t know,—maybe, maybe not,” said 
the girl ungraciously. She felt disgruntled 
over the prospect of Ann’s going away. 
She received little sympathy at home and at 
school, and no one knew how she would miss 
her friend’s quick-flowing affection and un¬ 
derstanding. 

“Poor Thera,” thought Ann. “I must 
ask her to spend an afternoon with me before 
I go, if I have time to spare. This very aft¬ 
ernoon I must go and see my dear old man.” 

She found Janie busily ironing some of 
her last summer’s dresses, ready to lay in the 
new traveling-bag Uncle Bob was to bring 
home for Ann. 

Janie held a blue print up against Ann. 
“If ye’ve growed out of these, ye’ll have to 
gae wi’ your knees more showing,” she said. 


TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


155 


“There’ll be no time for letting them down.” 

“I’ll be respectable over there, anyhow,” 
giggled Ann. “From some of the pictures 
I don’t believe the children there wear any¬ 
thing. Lay the easy ones out for me, Janie, 
and I’ll do them after I eat my lunch. Mr. 
Trowbridge will probably be out to-day— 
it’s so lovely.” 



She worked with Janie until four o’clock, 
then, seizing a sweater, ran across the street 





























156 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


to the big house, where she found Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge sitting alone. 

“Haven’t you been out?” Ann asked, 
smiling down at him, full of her story. 

“Didn’t feel up to it,” growled the old 
man. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I wish you felt better. 
I’ll hate to leave you.” She sat down to tell 
her news. 

It surprised him into self-forgetfulness, 
and Smiley, too, who, forgetting his dignity, 
turned his head to hear. 

“Hum, going to look over rubber, is he? 
Well, he’s on the right track, all right,” said 
Mr. Trowbridge, seeming, for the first time, 
to take some interest in Uncle Bob. “How 
old is he, did you say?” 

“Who? Uncle Bob? He’s thirty-four.” 

“Thirty-four! Does he know how to take 
care of you?” 

“Oh, yes,” laughed Ann. “I can almost 
take care of myself, you know. Just think,” 
she said for about the hundredth time. “I’m 


TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


157 


going to sail in a big boat on the ocean.” 

“A ship with silver wings, eh?” 

Ann looked at him quickly. “Why, you 
remembered my little verse, didn’t you? I 
wish it were going to be a ship with silver 
wings, but, you know, it would take a lot of 
money to fill it full of beautiful things, and 
I haven’t any money yet. It’s going to cost 
Uncle Bob a lot, I’m afraid, to take me, but 
he says, ‘Never mind the money!’ He’s aw¬ 
fully funny.” 

“He has a good, strong pair of legs and 
an adventuresome spirit,” said Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge, gruffly. “That’s something. So 
you won’t make it a ship with silver wings, 
eh?” 

“I guess if I ever have one, I’ll have to 
make myself into one,” said Ann thought¬ 
fully. “I’ve been thinking, lately, if you’re 
kind and good and—wise enough to help 
people, it’s better than giving them presents, 
and I want to be that kind of a person. I 
want to be a very, very wonderful kind of a 


158 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


person.” Her voice curved into a lovely 
softness. “You see, I’m the only one my 
mother and father have here, and I want 
them to be proud of me, them and all the oth¬ 
ers who have been so good to me.” 

She stood before her host, slender and 
sweet in her fast-growing youth. She had 
stretched out some since the day she first ap¬ 
peared before him with the gray kitten in 
her arms. Her face had lost some of its 
childish roundness. There was a less riot¬ 
ous wave in her hair, a deeper blue in her 
eyes. 

The old man gazed at her, and if his eyes 
dimmed a little, no one was there to see, no 
one there to notice that the lean hands on the 
arms of the chair trembled as she came to¬ 
ward him to say good-by. 

“Look here,” he said, “do you want any¬ 
thing to take with you—any of that—that 
junk?” He jerked his head toward the 
treasure-cabinet so dear to both of them. 

“No, indeed,” said Ann. “I want them 




TO GO OR NOT TO GO 


159 


all right there when I come home. It will be 
new then to go over them all again, but there 
is something I want. I want you to kiss 
me good-by. Will you, dear Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge?” 

The old man bent his head and kissed her 
with trembling lips. “Now, go along with 
you,” he said. “And make it a good trip, 
while you’re about it.” 

“I’ll write to you,” Ann promised again. 
“And I’ll have so much to tell you when I 
come back. I’m glad you’ve never been to 
Sumatra, so it will all be new to you.” 

She found a downcast Smiley waiting for 
her. He had been down ahead of her, to 
tell the rest of the servants all about it. Ann 
herself ran to the kitchen to say good-by to 
Mrs. Kelly and cook and Molly. 

“And say good-by to Mrs. Mooney for 
me,” she called back to pretty, happy-go- 
lucky Molly. 

“That I will, miss. God bless you,” cried 
the girl. 


i6o 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Bless her for the friendly little thing she 
is,” she said heartily. “There ain’t many 
like her, that there ain’t. God bless her, says 
I, and good luck to her—three times good 
luck!” 


CHAPTER XI 

THE SAILING 


I T was a bright March day when Ann 
and her uncle started—a day of crisp 
air and blue skies, a day of days to be 
sailing away for strange new lands and ad¬ 
ventures gay. 

Somebody had to make for Ann, that day, 
all the rhymes and songs she herself could 
not formulate. In the whirl and buzz of 
getting off, in the excitement of the swift trip 
to New York, in the zigzag taxi-ride to the 
docks, Ann was quiet for once, breathless in 
the midst of all the wonders of real travel. 

They had come to New York early that 
morning, just she and Uncle Bob. There 
was no one who could come to see them off, 
but in Ann’s own little traveling-bag were 
going-away presents from those who loved 

161 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


162 

her. Ann’s tender heart swelled whenever 
she thought of them. There were letters, 
first of all, from the girls at school and from 
Mary. And, close to them, six snowy hem¬ 
stitched handkerchiefs plainly initialed, that 
Aunt Rachel had left for her with Janie. 
Dear prim, precise Aunt Rachel! Ann 
loved and respected her, even though she did 
not like to live with her. 

Then, the day before she left Starr House, 
William Hazard and his mother had come to 
say good-by, and, to Ann’s surprise, they, 
too, had brought gifts. 

“Open them up,” William had demanded 
proudly. “See if you like them.” 

“Oh, no, William,” remonstrated his 
mother. “Ann wants to save them to open 
on the boat.” 

“I really would rather open them now, if 
you don’t mind,” Ann said, much to Wil¬ 
liam’s satisfaction, carefully removing the 
wrapping from the package he had handed 
to her. “Oh, William, I’m so glad you re- 


THE SAILING 


163 

membered! I’ve been dying to know what 
happened to her.” 

For the package contained the next in a 
series of stories, the first of which he had 
given her for Christmas. 

“Katherine Cary Carries On,” read Ann. 
“Can’t you just see me, all cozy in a deck¬ 
chair, reading it?” 

“Yes, you’ll be fine and cozy if you’re as 
seasick as I was,” said William with a grin; 
“but open mother’s now—that’s the cat’s 
me-ow.” 

“William!” laughed his mother. But 
Ann, who had unwrapped the other parcel, 
stood holding out, in speechless delight, the 
dainty Japanese kimono which Mrs. Hazard 
had chosen for her. It was of the finest of 
blue silk, with embroidered cherry-blossoms 
and winging birds. 

“Now you’ll just match the Mediterra¬ 
nean,” said the gracious lady, who had her¬ 
self sailed that beautiful sea. 

Ann came and stood before her, and sud- 


164 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

denly her arms, for the first time since she 
had known her, went around Mrs. Hazard’s 
neck. 

“It’s too perfectly sweet,” she said with a 



In speechless delight 


sigh. “I never had anything so pretty. 
Why are you so good to me?’ 

“I haven’t any little girl of my own, dear, 
to buy pretties for,” said Mrs. Hazard, smil¬ 
ing at her a little wistfully. “William goes 
about all the time in baseball or football togs. 
I wanted you to have something as sweet and 














THE SAILING 


165 

dainty as yourself. You are going to 
warmer countries, and I thought, perhaps, 
Janie would not think to put in a light negli¬ 
gee for you. By the way, Ann, what is Janie 
going to do while you are away? I wish I 
could find some one like her to come and 
take charge of things while I go West with 
Mr. Hazard. Do you think she would 
come?” 

“Well,” said Ann slowly, “I don’t believe 
she would. You see, she has planned to take 
a rest and stay with her daughter. But I 
think Mrs. Mooney might. Molly told me 
the other day that her mother was getting 
tired of being idle, and would like to take a 
place here.” 

“And who is Mrs. Mooney?’ asked Mrs. 
Hazard with a smile. “You do have so 
many friends, Ann.” 

Ann related the story of Thanksgiving 
Day. “She seems old,” she said in conclu¬ 
sion, “but she’s really very smart and quick. 
Molly says she has been housekeeper in very 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


166 

good homes in England. I could take you 
over, if you’d like to ask Molly about her.” 

“I’ll look her up some day soon,” promised 
Mrs. Hazard. “But to-day we have to stop 
in town. Say good-by to Ann, William, and 
let us go now.” 

“Good-by, Ann—hope you have a good 
time,” said William a bit awkwardly. 

“Oh, I will—and thank you a thousand 
times for the presents. I’ll think of you 
every time I wear the kimono or read the 
book.” 

She went out to the car with them, and 
waved to them until the limousine turned the 
corner. Then she ran back to show to Janie 
the two other precious things that were to be 
tucked away beside the letters and handker¬ 
chiefs. 

“I’ve a wee giftie for ye myself,” said the 
housekeeper. “If ye’d run to my room, 
right on the beaury, ye could put them in, 
too. It’s tired enou to drap, I am.” 

“Poor Janie! I don’t wonder. I guess 



THE SAILING 


167 


you’ll be glad to see the last of us. You 
shouldn’t ever have thought of a present 
after all you’ve been doing for me. But I’m 
anxious to see it, just the same.” 

“Why, Janie McNulty!” she called a mo¬ 
ment later. “They’re the dearest things! 
Where did you get them?” She had in her 
hand two pairs of sturdy socks, with true 
Scotch-plaid tops. 

“So ye will na forget bonnie Scotland 
when ye’re off in heathen lands,” Janie told 
her. 

Ann looked very serious for a minute. 
“Do you suppose I’ll get homesick away off 
there. I’ll have Uncle Bob, you know, but 
sometimes I wish you were going, too, Janie, 
and that we knew where we were going to 
live when we come home.” 

“No use crossing a bridge atill ye come to 
it, my lamb. Best live a day a time, and live 
it full, and leave the rest to the Lord. Three 
months are nae sae lang a time. ’Twill nae 
be lang again ’till I see you coming and ring- 


168 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

ing Maggie’s door-bell, as the first time 
I saw ye. ‘Where’s that gingerbread, 
Janie?’ ye’ll say, and there I’ll be.” 

“Oh, Janie!” Ann was laughing now. 
“You dear, funny thing. Won’t I be glad to 
see you, and won’t we have lots to talk about. 
It will be fun, won’t it, Janie?” 

In a flash her mood changed again, and 
she felt she could hardly wait until the mor¬ 
row to be off. 

And now here she was, standing beside 
Uncle Bob, waiting to go on the great liner 
that stood there majestically before them. 
How still and powerful it looked—how 
wide-stretching the gray-green harbor—how 
strange and noisy the crowds of people 
swarming about them! How exciting it all 
was! Ann’s arm slid inside Uncle Bob’s. 

He looked down at her, and squeezed her 
hand understandingly. 

“It does make you feel that way, Nancy, 
but there’s a place up there on that boat for 
you and me, and when we find it and sail 



THE SAILING 


169 


away out of all this, there’s a wonderful 
peace in the bigness of it. Come, let’s go 
on, shall we?” 

People watching them go up the hatch¬ 
way together conjectured about them. A 
fine-looking chap and his young daughter 
probably. But where was the mother? A 
pair to watch and ask about later. 

Meanwhile Ann and her uncle were find¬ 
ing their state-rooms. Born traveler that 
he was, Robert Fairlee easily could find his 
way about the ship and explain everything 
his niece wished to know about. Her own 
state-room was a marvelous thing to Ann. 
Again and again she exclaimed over its 
clever arrangements. 

“It’s the cunningest place I ever saw,” she 
cried. “I feel just like Beauty in ‘Beauty 
and the Beast’—everything I pull or push 
shows something I can use.” 

“You’ll appreciate that tightly-fastened 
little white bed of yours, if we strike a good 
swell in the middle of the Atlantic,” laughed 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


170 

her uncle. “But come on deck now, and see 
some of your fellow-passengers. It won’t 
be long now before we’re off.” 

The decks now were swarming with peo¬ 
ple, chattering, gesticulating, some openly 
wiping their eyes. There were boys hurry¬ 
ing back and forth with big baskets of flow¬ 
ers and fruit, deck-hands giving directions 
and casually making preparations for the 
sailing. 

And then, after several cries of warning 
to those who were to go ashore, there were 
final leave-takings, a final sharp whistle. 
Ann felt a slight chug-chug below her, and 
looked up quickly at her uncle. 

“We’re off,” he exclaimed, his eyes spar¬ 
kling down into hers. “Are you sorry you 
came, Nancy?” 

“Sorry! I never felt so alive in all my life. 
The thing is—are you sorry you brought 
me, Uncle Bob?” 

“Nancy,” said her uncle in mock solem¬ 
nity, “I give you my word—if you weren’t 


THE SAILING 


171 

with me, I’d probably be down in my cabin 
this minute, weeping real tears. And, 
speaking of cabins, we’d better go down to 
ours and see that our bags come in. Then 
I’m going to introduce you to your steward¬ 
ess and bring you up here to walk the deck 
till dinner-time. And if you don’t have a 
good night’s rest after that, I’ll be disap¬ 
pointed.” 

Ann laughed happily. “I don’t believe 
I’ll ever want to go to sleep,” she said. 

But when eight o’clock came, she was 
tucked beneath the softest of blankets, and, 
in her first light slumber, she dreamed that 
Janie and Mr. Trowbridge were, one on 
each side of her, both pulling as hard as they 
could. But soon she fell into a calm deep 
sleep, and her first night on ship board was 
one of perfect peace. 


CHAPTER XII 


ON SHIPBOARD 

A NN BURDETTE was a normal, 
healthy little girl. Having lived, 
for five years of her life, first with 
one relative and then with another, she had 
also learned to adapt herself quickly to new 
conditions. She soon became accustomed 
to life on shipboard, and, because of her 
sweet and friendly spirit, became a favorite 
with her fellow-passengers. 

She found, to her great delight, a girl near 
her own age, who sat at the table to which 
she and her uncle had been assigned. 
Marian Paige was a quiet, pretty dark-haired 
girl, thirteen years old. She was traveling 
with her mother and father, the latter a phy¬ 
sician running away from too busy nights 

and days to the rest and relaxation of a sea- 

172 


ON SHIPBOARD 


173 


voyage. Marian confided to Ann that she, 
herself, had not wished to leave school and 



The two girls walked miles and miles on deck 







174 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

come on this trip, but that now she was glad 
she had come. She was much interested in 
Ann’s own story. Just like a book, she de¬ 
clared, and books, Ann soon found out, were 
Marian’s specialty. 

The two girls walked miles and miles on 
deck, with their arms about each other’s 
waists, or put their steamer-chairs close to¬ 
gether for a cozy hour’s reading or talking. 
Ann brought out the book William had 
given her, and offered to tell Marian the 
story of the first of the series, but when she 
saw the small library Marian herself had 
brought with her, she laughingly withdrew 
her offer. 

“Marian Paige,” she said, “you don’t 
mean to tell me you are going to read all 
those books! Why, you can’t mean to do 
anything but read. And with all the other 
wonderful things there are to do on this 
boat!” 

“That’s right, get after her, Ann,” said 


ON SHIPBOARD 


175 


Dr. Paige, with a twinkle in his eye. 
“Make her stir herself, the old book-worm. 
Walk her at least five miles a day, and then 
get her in the fine swimming-pool we saw 
yesterday.” 

“Goodness, I can’t do that,” Ann said, 
twinkling back at him. “I’ve never been in 
any water in my life, unless you count wad¬ 
ing in the creek at Uncle John’s. I can’t 
swim, can you, Marian?” 

“Well, yes, I can a little,” admitted her 
friend. “I used to go to the ‘Y’ pool every 
Wednesday at home. But I’m not going in 
this one unless you go, too.” 

“I wish I could. I’d like to learn to swim, 
but I haven’t any bathing-suit.” 

“Wait until you see what I tucked into my 
bag at the last minute,” said Robert Fairlee, 
who sat near, listening to them. “I just hap¬ 
pened to think, Nancy, that you ought to 
learn how to take care of yourself in the wa¬ 
ter, and I bought you an Annette Keller- 


176 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


man. Let’s go down and see if we can find 
it, and then, this afternoon, I can give you a 
lesson.” 

The two girls jumped up with alac¬ 
rity. 

“I do think your Uncle Bob’s a peach!” 
whispered Marian as they skipped along the 
deck. “I bet he can swim, too. I’ll go in 
to-day if you will, Ann. I wonder what 
color your suit is? Mine’s the brightest red 
you ever saw. Dad says it’s the color I 
ought to have in my cheeks and haven’t.” 

Ann’s suit turned out to be a sedate dark 
blue, but the cap Uncle Bob had chosen to 
go with it was a bright green. She and 
Marian made an attractive pair as they sat 
on the edge of the pool that afternoon, wait¬ 
ing for Uncle Bob to give Ann her first les¬ 
son. The older people stood around, admir¬ 
ing and suggesting, and Ann thought it was 
all gay and delightful until she was actually 
in the water. Then for the first time in her 
life she was really frightened. The water 


ON SHIPBOARD 


177 


was an entirely new element to her. It over¬ 
powered and strangled her. She gasped 
and waved her arms wildly; she told her un¬ 
cle a dozen times it was no use, she couldn’t 
learn to swim; she didn’t see how Marian 
could do it; she might as well give it up, she’d 
never learn, and so on, and so on. 

“Oh, yes, you will,” said Marian, swim¬ 
ming about with easy strokes. “That’s what 
I said, too, the first few times I tried. Then 
all at once it comes to you, and it’s as easy 
as can be.” 

“Come, Nancy, this isn’t like you to give 
up so easily,” said her uncle. “I want you 
to get this. There’s no other exercise in the 
world so fine for a girl as swimming, isn’t 
that so, Doctor?” 

“Absolutely,” confirmed Dr. Paige, who 
was watching them. “I’ll come in to¬ 
morrow and give you a lesson, Ann. Rela¬ 
tives can’t teach you to swim any more than 
husbands can teach their wives to drive a 


car. 


178 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Between them all, with a lesson each day, 
Ann learned the stroke. The first time she 
got her arms and legs going together well 
enough to keep her up, she felt a great thrill 
of exultation. And, after that, self-confi¬ 
dence did the rest. Seven days of calm 
across the Atlantic gave opportunity for a 
daily try, and, at the end of that time, Ann 
could really say, “I can swim.” 

The people on board ship were by then 
fairly well acquainted with each other. 
There were games to be played on deck by 
the more strenuous ones of the group; there 
was dancing each evening for those who 
liked to dance; and, at all times, there were 
quiet, secluded corners for deck-chair com¬ 
panions, and blood-stirring walks about 
deck, looking out to where, on all sides, clear 
blue sky met clear green ocean. 

Ann, with her hand tucked under her 
uncle’s, as they walked, could speak only 
vaguely to him of the feeling it all gave her. 


ON SHIPBOARD 


179 


It was the bigness and peace and eternity of 
it whispering to the promise of such things 
in her growing girl-soul. 

“I feel, sometimes, as if something inside 
of me were going to fly right out to it,” she 
told him. “Sometimes I don’t feel like me 
at all.” 

“It’s the person you are going to be some 
day, talking to the little person you are now,” 
Uncle Bob told her gently. “I’m glad I 
brought you, puss. You’re going to feel the 
right things in the right places, and that’s 
always a comfort. If I could only find a 
wife like you, I’d be a lucky man.” 

“That Miss Margaret Howell seems to 
think she’d make a good one,” Ann whis¬ 
pered mischievously. “And there’s Miss 
Watson. She seems to think you’re pretty 
fine.” 

Her uncle laughed with her. To tell the 
truth, he, like Ann, had become popular 
with his fellow-passengers, but although he 


180 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

made himself agreeable to several of the 
younger ladies, it was quite evident to them 
that he talked and danced with equal pleas¬ 
ure with Mrs. Paige or Marian. 

“I’ve made up a verse about you,” Ann 
went on teasing, and she sang: 

“Here’s a very nice man, as one can see, 

But he’s nicest of all to little me, 

And it’s just the hardest thing in life, 

To get my Uncle Bob a wife.” 

“Keep on, Nancy, and you’ll be selling 
popular songs before you’re twenty,” teased 
her uncle back. “You’ll have to be more 
serious, though, when you reach the East. 
The natives of Sumatra are a curious and 
interesting people, but I imagine a sense of 
humor isn’t their strong point. I think 
we’ll like the Malays, and the Dutch people 
who govern them. It won’t be long, now, 
before we are among them, and at the busi¬ 
ness I’ve come to attend to. To-morrow we 
sail by the Azores, and then it will only be 


ON SHIPBOARD 181 

a short time before we enter the Mediterra¬ 
nean.” 

Uncle Bob was right. By ten o’clock the 
next morning their boat made a short stop 
at the Azores, those delightful little islands 
near the coast of Spain. 

Marian Paige and Ann, interested in all 
they saw, watched the natives bringing ba¬ 
nanas and oranges and early vegetables to 
boats that would carry them for sale into 
northern European ports. 

Their next stop was a short one, also, at 
Lisbon, in Portugal, and from there they 
sailed into the Mediterranean Sea. And, 
oh, the beauty of that! 

“Ann’s eyes are the only things that match 
it,” said Dr. Paige one morning as they all 
came out on deck. They were sailing more 
slowly now, and were close enough to the 
coast to see the mountains, outlined in the 
distance,—blue mountains, calm and majes¬ 
tic; blue water, calm also and warmer; and, 
above, a turquoise-blue sky! 



182 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

“It’s heavenly! I shall hate to leave it,” 
declared Mrs. Paige. The Paiges were to 
leave the ship at Naples and go to Rome 
for the Easter celebrations and festivities. 
Then they were going to tour Switzerland 
and France, and cross to England, there to 
take a boat for home. 

Marian and Ann were disconsolate at the 
thought of parting. Each felt that in the 
other she had found a congenial friend. 
Both of them promised fervently to keep up 
a regular correspondence, and Mrs. Paige 
delighted them by saying that if Ann would 
send her their new address, she would drive 
Marian to Memford in the fall to spend a 
day or two with them. 

Robert Fairlee, too, parted with the Paiges 
with regret when they reached Naples, and, 
for a few days after, devoted himself to Ann, 
in the hope she would not too sadly miss 
her friend. But Ann, all at once, bethought 
herself of the numerous letters she had prom¬ 
ised to write—to Virginia and the girls, 


ON SHIPBOARD 


183 


to William and her cousin Mary, to little 
sick Peggy and Tom. These letters and 
her books and usual shipboard recreations 
filled the leisurely days that followed, and 
left Uncle Bob free to do the reading he had 
promised himself to do upon the rubber¬ 
growing that he was on his way to investi¬ 
gate. 

Before either of them knew it, they had 
reached Trieste and left their staunch and 
friendly ship, to take the one which was to 
carry them to the East. They spent a day 
and a night in Trieste, and found this ancient 
seaport very quaint and interesting. They 
climbed the narrow, steep streets, to visit its 
queer little shops, to see the beautiful old 
cathedral and the still older castle. 

“It’s jolly to be on land again, isn’t it?” 
Ann said gayly. “But don’t I walk funny? 
I feel as thought I were rolling along like a 
sailor.” 

“Well, you’ll be a sailor again to-mor¬ 
row,” said her uncle. “We go aboard at 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


184 

seven, lassie, and then we shall be on our 
way.” 

“What will be our next stop?” Ann asked. 

“Port Said in Egypt—then all the other 
old countries, Abyssinia, Arabia, and Cey¬ 
lon. You’ll probably feel very, very young 
in the midst of them, Nancy, but we may as 
well get used to that.” 

“I hope the boat won’t be too old,” 
laughed Ann. 

She was awake bright and early the next 
morning, waiting to board it. They found 
few of their former fellow-travelers with 
them. Most of them had gone on for travel 
in European countries. The new passen¬ 
gers were, for the most part, traveling East 
on business of one sort or another. There 
were among them teachers and missionaries, 
soldiers and physicians, embassy attaches 
and young Dutchmen going out as overseers 
of the various plantations. 

Uncle Bob found the latter very interest- 


ON SHIPBOARD 


185 


ing. While most of them were going out to 
tobacco and tea plantations, they could tell 
him much he wanted to know about the rub¬ 
ber plantations also, and about the country 
he was going to see. 

As they passed through the Red Sea and 
into the Indian Ocean the days and nights 
grew very warm. People put on their thin¬ 
nest clothes and stayed up on deck later at 
night, watching the full moon that hung so 
motionless in the sky, and hoping for a 
breeze. But the air itself was very still, and 
even the ports at which they stopped seemed 
wrapped in an Oriental mantle of age and 
inaction. Only the flying fish, diving in and 
out of the water, gave life and motion to the 
picture. 

At Aden in Arabia, where they stayed for 
some hours, Ann saw the quiet Arabs and 
their camels that she had so often studied 
about but never seen. But at Colombo in 
Ceylon, where they also stopped, she saw 


i86 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


hundreds and hundreds of crows that made 
her think of the country in her own land. 
The cocoanut and date palms in the distance, 
however, were not of her America, nor were 
the trees of huge fragrant blossoms that she 
exclaimed over. 

“One more day and we shall be at our 
journey’s end,” said Uncle Bob as they left 
Ceylon. 

“A whole month since we left home,” re¬ 
plied Ann, rubbing her cheek against his 
sleeve. “I wonder how they all are, and if 
little Tom and Peggy are well again.” 

“I asked Margaret to try to have a letter at 
Medan for us, so we would know. And 
there will, perhaps, be one from Rachel, too, 
full of admonitions and instructions about 
you.” 

“It will be fun to get them, won’t it?” said 
Ann, skipping along the deck. “Now we 
are so near, I can hardly wait.” 

“We will turn in early to-night,” said her 
uncle. “To-morrow—land, a new land and 



ON SHIPBOARD 


187 

work, for you and for me, for you’re my part¬ 
ner in this, Nancy girl, as you are in every¬ 
thing.” 

Ann looked at him in silence, only giving 
his hand a hard squeeze. Her eyes and 
heart were full of the wonder and mystery of 
coming India, and a greater love for this best 
of uncles. 


CHAPTER XIII 


SUMATRA 


I T had been decided that, during their 
visit to Sumatra, they were to stay in 
Medan, on the outskirts of which lay 
the plantations Mr. Fairlee wished to see. 

“A fine, clean, modern little town is 
Medan,” their fellow-travelers had told 
them—“a good hotel and parks and a 
beautiful governor’s palace,—oh, yes, 
you will like it.” 

Ann was very anxious to get there. As 
they steamed slowly into the splendid new 
harbor of Belawan-Deli, she stood close to 
her uncle, eagerly waiting to land. With all 
her love for ships, silver-winged and other¬ 
wise, she was quite willing, after a month’s 
ocean travel, to leave this one and be once 
more on terra firma. 


188 





SUMATRA 


189 


They were met at the boat by Mr. Van 
Rossum, who was part owner of the planta¬ 
tion Uncle Bob had come to inspect. Mr. 
Van Rossum was a pleasant, capable-look¬ 
ing, middle-aged Dutchman. He had lived 
in Sumatra for ten years, and he, too, on 
their way to the town, assured Ann that she 
would like Medan. He was taking them to 
a hotel, he explained, instead of to his own 
home, because his home, like most of the 
houses in Medan, was small. But they 
would be glad to have them come often for 
dinner, and Ann could play with his chil¬ 
dren. She would like that—yes? 

“How old are your children?” Ann asked 
him smilingly, thinking that things were 
promising well all around. 

“Well—Quarles, he is eleven, and Mina, 
she is nine or ten. Ah! that Mina, she is a 
rascal!” Mr. Van Rossum threw back his 
head and laughed. “She is not shy—not at 
all. You will be great friends, hein?” 

Ann said “Yes,” trying to remember what 




190 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


she had read about Dutch children in “Hans 
Brinker” and in “The Dutch Twins.” 
“Dutch children in India! I’m getting all 
mixed up,” she thought, and decided to wait 
and see what Mina and Quarles were like 
when she met them. 

Mr. Van Rossum, meanwhile, was saying 
to her uncle, “I’m taking you to the Hotel de 
Boer. I’m sure you’ll be comfortable there, 
and I can get you, too, a Malay woman, who 
will take good care of this young lady while 
you are away. You’d like that?” 

“Yes, indeed, and it certainly is good of 
you to make such thoughtful arrangements. 
The Hotel de Boer is the one we want. I 
told our folks at home we would go there first 
of all.” 

They were now in Medan, and Ann and 
her uncle were looking about with both eyes. 

“Isn’t it pretty!” cried the little girl en¬ 
thusiastically. “Oh, isn’t it pretty! Just 
like a toy village—all green and white. 
And doesn’t it smell sweet!” 


SUMATRA 


191 

Although they were riding in a very mod¬ 
ern automobile, Ann felt very far away in¬ 
deed from her native land. The buildings 
were all white, accentuating the shining 
green of the nearer palm trees. In the dis¬ 
tance cocoanut palms were shining like gold 
in the sunshine. All about, as they rode, 
were the greenest of lawns, edged by hedges 
of the hibiscus, blossoming now with glori¬ 
ous red or pink flowers. And, flying here 
and there, were gay-plumaged tropical birds. 

“I love it!” cried Ann. “Don’t you, Un¬ 
cle Bob?” 

“Pretty fine!” said Mr. Fairlee, smiling at 
her. “Well—here we are, Van Rossum,” 
as they drove up before the hotel. 

Their new friend went with them to their 
rooms, saw that they were satisfactory, gave 
clear orders to the servant who had accom¬ 
panied them, then excused himself, saying 
that he would come back for them in the aft¬ 
ernoon. 

Ann had a small room, next to her uncle’s. 



192 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


It was very simply furnished, but wonder¬ 
fully clean, and full of the fragrant air com¬ 
ing in through the open windows. 

Her uncle came in while Ann was stand¬ 
ing beside one of the windows, looking out 
at the pretty park that was just beyond. 

“I’m going to get a nap before luncheon, 
Nancy,” said he, “and I want you to lie right 
down on that little bed and snatch forty 
winks, too.” 

“Go to sleep? Now? Oh, I couldn’t!” 
protested Ann, but she obediently lay down 
and closed her eyes. The next thing she 
knew Uncle Bob was calling her for lunch¬ 
eon. She had slept for two hours !• 

She felt very grown-up, indeed, as she 
walked with her uncle into the attractive, 
square dining-room downstairs, but her ap¬ 
petite was her usual keen childish one, and 
she ate with relish all the unusual but savory 
dishes that were brought to them by the calm¬ 
faced Dutch waiter. 


SUMATRA 


193 


“You’ll be quite a young lady when you 
get your Malay maid, won’t you?” said Un¬ 
cle Bob. “It’s lucky those Malay servants 
are so cheap—it quite relieves my mind. I 
believe their living costs them very little, so 
they are able to work for low wages. 
They’re in your class, Nancy, they’re not 
meat-eaters.” 

“How shall we ever understand each 
other?” asked Ann. “We shall have to 
make up a secret language, or talk with 
our fingers, like the deaf-mutes. I think it 
will be rather fun, Uncle Bob, I honestly 
do.” 

“Oh, you will get along somehow,” an¬ 
swered her uncle easily. “The Malays are 
very faithful, and take excellent care of you, 
if you are not too spasmodic a person. 
They like you to keep to the orders you give 
them, and not change your mind too often.” 

“Just like Janie!” laughed Ann. “We’re 
used to that, aren’t we? I do wofider how 



194 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


dear old Janie is. I’m so glad the darling 
children are better.” 

For a short letter from Aunt Margaret had 
really been awaiting them, and it told of the 
little patients’ improvement, and of their dis¬ 
appointment that Ann could not be with 
them during their tedious convalescence. 

“I’ll write to them soon,” continued Ann. 
“It will amuse Peggy and Tom to hear about 
bananas growing upon these queer trees, and 
real parrots in the parks, not in cages, but 
flying all about.” 

“I’m glad you are going to have some¬ 
thing to occupy your time while I am busy, 
and glad, too, that some one is going to write 
all my family letters for me. Oh, I was a 
wise man when I kidnaped you from the 
rest of the relatives, puss. Now, if you can 
stop eating desserts, suppose we go to our 
rooms and get into cooler clothes for the aft¬ 
ernoon. Have you something that’s all 
right?” 

“Sure,” said Ann promptly, “one of my 


SUMATRA 


195 


linen dresses, and I’ll put on a pair of Janie’s 
Scotch socks to keep us from feeling home¬ 
sick.” 

“You don’t feel homesick, do you?” Her 
uncle looked up quickly. 

“Goodness, no! Not with you right here 
with me, dear darlingest best!” 

“There you go again, spoiling me! Now 
I shall never get a wife.” 

“I believe you are thinking of getting one, 
you talk about it so often.” 

“I’ll keep my eyes open. Perhaps it will 
be a Dutch one, ‘hein’f But we must get 
ready for Van Rossum.” 

Uncle Bob put on an all-white suit, and 
looked quite ready for plantation life. 

“Only one thing lacking,” said Uncle 
Bob. He took Ann with him to one of the 
stores near by and ordered the man to bring 
out several round, white hats. 

“There’s my topee,” said he. “Now 
while I go about looking at rubber, my head 
will be properly protected from this sun.” 


ig6 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Ann laughed as her uncle put it on, but 
whispered to him, “You’re too handsome for 
words in it, really you are!” 



“You’re too handsome for words in it!” 


They had only just had time to visit their 
rooms again when Uncle Bob said, “Ssh! 
There’s Van Rossum now! He’s early, 
and, yes, Nancy, he has your woman with 
him. Good chap, Van Rossum.” 

Ann gazed with interest at the queer¬ 
looking figure standing motionless beside 
their Dutch friend—a thin, middle-aged 
brown woman, her head bound about with 
the native turban, her dress full and long, 
and about her shoulders a loose mantle. 


























SUMATRA 


197 


As Ann came up with her uncle, the Ma¬ 
lay woman bowed low. 

“This is Saragi, Miss Ann,” said Mr. Van 
Rossum. “I brought her along, thinking 
she could unpack for you while we are out 
at the plantation.” 

“That will be very nice, thank you,” and 
Ann smiled at Saragi. The woman smiled 
in return, and their companionship began 
pleasantly. 

Very often, afterward, Ann thought of the 
funny time they had that afternoon, she and 
Saragi, trying to understand each other, Ann 
gesticulating and pantomiming; Saragi, in¬ 
tent upon all that the little girl was doing, her 
brown face breaking suddenly into smiles 
at the result of her efforts. Fortunately, 
Saragi, knew a little English, and Ann en¬ 
joyed acting things out, so they got along 
very well, and, before many days passed, 
they worked out for themselves that best of 
all languages, that of mutual understanding 
and trust and friendliness. 


iq8 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

Leaving Saragi to unpack for her, as Mr. 
Van Rossum had suggested, Ann joined her 
uncle and the overseer for an afternoon of 
sightseeing. 

They came, soon, to the outskirts of the 
town, where, in the distance, the plantations 
could be seen. It was strange to think that 
all of this land, not so long ago, had been 
jungle land, where tigers and other wild ani¬ 
mals roamed at will. Now there were tea 
and tobacco plantations in full leaf, with 
both men and women working on them. It 
all looked to Ann like a picture from her 
geography-book at home, and she could not 
help exclaiming, every now and then, over 
the strange things she saw that so interested 
her. 

“We will stop some day soon and let you 
examine everything,” her uncle told her. 
“But to-day I am anxious to get my first 
glimpse of growing rubber.” 

They came, soon, to Mr. Van Rossum’s 


SUMATRA 


199 


plantation, where the full-grown rubber 
trees formed beautiful arches under which 
they rode. 

“Just like a cathedral arch,” said Ann. 
“Isn’t it beautiful, Uncle Bob?” 

“I want him to admire it,” said the Dutch¬ 
man with a smile. “A little American 
money put into Sumatra rubber would be a 
good thing for us, and for the United States, 
too.” 

They went about, now, on foot, Mr. Van 
Rossum explaining everything as they went. 

The brown workmen, stripped to the 
waist, looked up with interest at the good- 
looking American and the friendly blue¬ 
eyed little girl. Some of them were tapping 
the trees that had reached their four-years’ 
growth, and were placing little cups under¬ 
neath to catch the white sap, or “latex,” as it 
is called. Others were going around col¬ 
lecting in great milk-cans the latex that had 
already filled the cups. 


200 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“What will they do with it, now?” asked 
Ann, as she watched them carry the big cans 
away. 

“They will take it to our factory, right 
over there.” Mr. Van Rossum pointed to 
the edge of the plantation. “Some time soon 
I’m going to take you through that, too, but 
I am sure you do not know how tired you are 
at this moment. I do not want you to feel 
any exhaustion to-night, or you will be dis¬ 
couraged at the beginning of your stay. A 
fine bath at your hotel will be welcome to 
both of you now, and then you will be ready 
for your supper. I hope you like rice, for 
you will probably get your fill of it while you 
are here.” 

“I do, but I don’t think Uncle Bob cares 
for it,” said Ann. 

“He may like rice tafel.” 

“Rice tafel? What is that?” 

“It is boiled rice with various things mixed 
with it—chicken and eggs and curry and 
peanuts.” 



SUMATRA 


201 


“It sounds good, doesn’t it? Uncle Bob? 
What else shall we have, Mr. Van Rossum?” 

“Well—vegetables, of course, and fried 
bananas are delicious, we think.” 

“So many good things to eat—and so 
many wonderful things to see! I think our 
first day in Medan has been wonderful.” 

“And to-morrow,” said Mr. Van Rossum, 
smiling, “Mina and Quarles will come and 
take you to our home with them.” 

“Joyful! Did you hear that, Uncle Bob? 
You may go about your work with an easy 
mind. Saragi and I are going visiting.” 

“Cheers!” said her uncle, and, raising one 
of the big milk-cans in mock ceremony, he 
gave a toast: “Here’s to Ann and to 
Medan, may they learn to love each other!” 


CHAPTER XIV 


IN MEDAN 



INA and Quarles, with their 
mother, appeared at the hotel 
early the next morning. They 


had taken a holiday from school, just to come 
to meet the little American girl. They 
were jolly little things, their round eyes shin¬ 
ing china-blue in their tanned faces, their 
fair hair bleached fairer by the tropical sun. 

Ann, who had had almost no companions 
near her own age since parting with Marian 
Paige, went off happily with them, Saragi 
walking behind, her eyes constantly upon 
her new charge. 

The Van Rossum house was one-storied 
and small. It seemed to Ann much shut in 
for a warm country house, but there was a 
beautiful lawn all about it, and the rear ve- 


202 




IN MEDAN 


203 


randa, where they had their luncheon, was 
cool and delightful. There were brilliant 
flowers all about, and saucy parrots in the 
trees that seemed to be vying with little Mina 
in chattering. 

She and Quarles were studying English in 
school, she told Ann, and could say ever so 
many words. She went over them, count¬ 
ing them on her fat little fingers—“man, girl, 
boy, pencil, book, desk, door, window, bird.” 

“And I don’t know a single word of 
Dutch,” said Ann, smiling at her. 

“Come to school with us to-morrow! 
Teacher would like it.” The little Dutch 
girl turned to Saragi and spoke to her 
quickly in her own language, for Mina had 
been born in Sumatra and understood the 
native people. “There! Saragi says you 
may go, if you like. Please, please!” 

Mrs. Van Rossum, too, thought Ann 
might find the school interesting, and Ann, 
herself, felt that it might be very nice to get 
into a schoolroom again. 


204 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


She left the Van Rossums that afternoon, 
promising that she would go to school 
the next day if her uncle had no objec¬ 
tions. 

The following morning, therefore, she 
stood, at the appointed time, waiting for 
them. In her cool green dress, her hair held 
in place by a ribbon of the same color, she 
made a charming picture. Mina, catching 
sight of her first, ran and took her hand in 
her friendly fashion, admiring openly all 
that she wore and did. 

Ann received a kindly welcome from 
teacher and scholars at the little school, and, 
at first, thought it great fun to sit and watch 
and have to make no recitations, but, as the 
long morning wore on, she became very 
tired of trying to listen to things, none of 
which she could understand. The lesson in 
English, alone, was intelligible. Ann en¬ 
joyed that, because the children made mis¬ 
takes and said such funny things. 

“I suppose we are like that in our French 


IN MEDAN 


205 


class,” thought Ann. “I must write to the 
girls and tell them about this.” 

She did write that very afternoon, long 
letters to Virginia, and to William, and to 
Thera Graham. Strange to say, it was of 
Thera she thought most often in this new, old 
country; Thera, thin and brown, quiet and 
hard to understand, full of, alternately, high 
exultation and deepest depression. 

“The places here are gay, but the people 
aren’t,” Ann said to herself one day. “Even 
their music is sad; their drums aren’t a bit 
like American drums, and their flutey things 
give me the heebee-jeebees.” 

The truth was, as the days passed in com¬ 
parative idleness for her, time began to hang 
heavily upon her hands. She began to grow 
tired of sight-seeing. She had been with Sa- 
ragi all about the town, through the beauti¬ 
ful parks and along the Deli River. Uncle 
Bob, himself, had taken her to the Gover¬ 
nor’s Palace, to the surrounding towns, and 
out around the tea and tobacco plantations. 


206 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Now it was necessary for him to attend to 
the business he had come upon. His time 
was spent, during the day, with the rubber- 
growers, and in the evenings there were very 
often dinners or meetings that he had to at¬ 
tend. 

“I’m so sorry, dear, that I can’t be with 
you more,” said he. “But you understand, 
don’t you?” 

“Oh, yes,” Ann responded brightly. “I 
get along beautifully, and Saragi’s so good 
to me.” But although she would never 
mention it, she began to feel lonely and list¬ 
less, and to miss the activities of her daily 
life at home. 

“I won’t be a quitter and a spoil-sport,” 
she said to herself one evening, as she sat 
alone on the hotel veranda. “I wanted to 
come, and here I am, and that’s all there is 
to it, but, goodness knows, I do wish I had 
something to do.” 

Her uncle was in a neighboring town, 


IN MEDAN 


207 


where a dinner was being given in his honor, 
and Ann had told Saragi she might go home 
for the evening. 

“I’m going to bed early,” she told the faith¬ 
ful woman. “It’s so hot I’ll just sit here a 
little while, then go to my room, and put my 
nightie on.” 

It did seem very warm. There was a 
great stillness and depression that often 
comes with night in Eastern countries—a 
heavy feeling of mystery that Westerners try 
to solve and never can. 

“If it weren’t so clear, I’d think we were 
going to have a thunderstorm,” said poor 
Ann. 

But clear it was—the stars hung in the 
deep sky, still as silver paper stars. There 
was a faint smell of incense in the air, and, 
from afar, there came the long sad wailing 
of the Indian flutes. 

“O dear! I guess I’ll go for a walk in 
the park. I don’t know what is the matter 




208 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

with everything to-night,” said the little girl. 
She got up slowly and walked from the 
veranda down the quiet street. 

The park had always been beautiful in the 
daytime, green and golden, pink and yel¬ 
low, sunny and bright. But now, at night, 
it seemed only heavy-scented and overhang¬ 
ing, the same mystery pervading it that 
dwells in the jungle. 

Ann glanced about her as she walked, 
half-daringly, half-fearfully. 

Suddenly, in a tree above her, she saw 
two eyes gleaming in the darkness. It was 
only a pole-cat after a bird, but Ann did not 
know that. She turned, with a cry, to run, 
stumbled, caught herself and fled until she 
came to a path where other people were 
walking. Then, a little ashamed of her 
fright, she walked until she found herself 
back again on the hotel veranda. There, 
still quivering in spite of herself, she sank 
down upon the chair she had forsaken. But 
poor Ann! As she sat there getting her 


IN MEDAN 


209 


breath, there was a sudden flop right above 
her head, and one of the big bats of that 
country swooped down close to her ear, 
down and out again! 



One of the big bats of that country swooped down 


“O-ooh!” Ann exclaimed, cowering. 
“Why does everything scare me so to¬ 
night!” 

She got up hurriedly and went to her own 
little room, and, getting undressed in un¬ 
usual haste, she slipped into bed. 

“Not that I’m sleepy,” she said to herself. 
“Everybody here takes such a long nap in 
the afternoon and stays up so late. I guess 
















210 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


I’ll read a little while, and maybe Uncle Bob 
will come home early.” 

She picked up a book from the table 
near by, when, out from under it, darted a 
slim, slippery little thing that fled from her 
touch. It was a lizard, like those she had 
seen almost every day since her arrival in 
Medan. She had thought them cunning, 
harmless little creatures, and rather liked to 
watch their antics, but one here, at night, 
in her own bedroom, with herself undressed 
in bed, was another matter! Ann watched it 
with distrust as it slid up and down the wall 
and ran to the ceiling, up and down and 
across. 

‘ ‘ Ugh—u gh! I wish it wouldn’t! I wish 
it wouldn’t!” Somehow, to-night the little 
lizard was the proverbial last straw, and, 
with a little homesick moan, Ann put her 
head down on her hands and began to cry, 
hard smothered crying that had to come out, 
but didn’t want to be heard. 

In the midst of it the lizard sped away to 



IN MEDAN 


211 


some unknown haunt. When finally, spent 
with crying and weary from fright, the little 
girl looked up, he was nowhere to be seen. 

“O dear! how silly I am! I don’t know 
what is the matter with me to-night! I’m 
glad Uncle Bob didn’t come in while I was 
crying. Everything’s been cuckoo to-day, 
but, thank goodness, to-morrow’s coming. 
What would people do if it weren’t for to¬ 
morrows? I ought to make a verse about 
them. I haven’t made any rhymes lately. 
I guess my rhymes don’t jingle with Suma¬ 
tra, but I think I’ll get a pencil and paper 
and try one now.” 

When Uncle Bob came home a little later, 
Ann’s light was still bright in her room. 
Surprised and a little alarmed, he quickly 
opened the door between them and crossed 
to the bed. Ann lay fast asleep, but on her 
face were still the traces of her tears. 

“Poor little Nancy, I wonder what’s up,” 
her uncle whispered tenderly. He glanced 
about the room, but everything seemed in its 


212 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


usual order. Only a bit of paper on the 
floor caught his eye. He picked it up and 
read: 

“When to-day’s been sad and full of queers, 
To-morrow’s always coming, dears, 

And you always can think when you’re feeling blue, 
That a brand new day’s on its way to you.” 

“My poor little girl! She’s had a bad 
time, and I’ve not been here. I wonder if 
anything’s happened, or if she’s just been 
lonely. I must look into this. At any rate, 
she’s all right now.’’ 

He slipped the paper back to its fallen 
place, turned off the light, and went to his 
own room. 

“I wonder if I’ve been a fool, .taking her 
for myself,” he thought. “I wonder if she 
would be better off with the women-folks. 
Heaven knows, I want only what’s best for 
my puss.” 

He went over and looked from the win¬ 
dow out into the silver moonlight. 


IN MEDAN 


213 


“If I could only find you, you’d help me 
out,” he said whimsically to some unseen 
divine goddess. “I seem to have enough 
trouble finding you, but, hang it all, I’m not 
going to take second best.” 

He thought no more that night of Ann, 
and next morning, at breakfast, she seemed 
so gay and contented that her uncle almost 
forgot his anxiety concerning her. 

He waited to see if she would, of her own 
accord, tell him what had happened to make 
her cry, but Ann had resolved to say noth- 
ing of her fears, and, with an inward 
chuckle, her uncle applauded her. 

He did not, however, forget it, and in the 
course of the morning he spoke to Johannes 
Van Rossum of his perplexity. 

“So?” said the older man, thoughtfully. 
“A little sad—missing her friends no doubt, 
and Medan hot and unamusing to a young 
thing. We have thought so much rubber 
we have not done well by her. I will speak 
to the wife; she will know.” 


214 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


He came from his luncheon and nap smil¬ 
ing, his round face glowing with satisfac¬ 
tion. 

“We have it!” he told Robert Fairlee. 
“The wife saw it at once. Let me tell you. 
We will all go to Brastagi to-morrow for the 
week-end, you, your Miss Ann, the wife and 
young ones, and I. We will take Saragi, 
and on the Monday you and I will return 
to rubber, and the wife must come and 
Quarles for his school, but that lively Mina 
we will leave there with Saragi and your 
Ann. There is a fine hotel there and a much 
better air—fresh vegetables and fruit be¬ 
sides. The new scenes and new food—they 
will do her good, is it not so? And, before 
she knows it, we will be through with this 
business of ours.” 

Robert Fairlee put his hand upon his new 
friend’s shoulder. 

“You’re a wonder, Van Rossum,” he said. 
“It will be just what she needs, my Nancy. 
Are you sure it isn’t going to interfere with 




IN MEDAN 


215 


your family plans to go off like this?” 

“Sure—sure—we could not let you go 
back without seeing Brastagi,” said the 
Dutchman heartily. “We were saving it 
for your last week, but it is better now.” 

Uncle Bob gave the news to Ann at din¬ 
ner that night, gave it as though it were just 
to be a treat for them all. There was no hint 
of recent tears or a special planning for Ann 
Burdette, and Ann was satisfied, delighted, 
more than that—on tiptoe to see a new part 
of the country and have a whole week-end 
with this dearest of uncles and the jolly Van 
Rossums. 



CHAPTER XV 


BRASTAGI 


T HEY left for Brastagi that Friday 
afternoon, the car that carried 
them wide open to the charm of 
the winding road. It was a climb from 
Medan to Brastagi,—for the latter place was 
a plain among the mountains of Sumatra, 
—a climb full of changing scenes and amus¬ 
ing incidents. They rode from the familiar 
tea plantations on through the jungle, where 
monkeys leaped across their path as rabbits 
do across ours, and where strange-colored 
birds flew squawking from the wayside. 
Later, they came again into open country, 
where they met the Javanese people driving 
oxen, always on the wrong side of the road, 
or walking quietly along with bundles on 
their heads. 

“Good, industrious people they are,” said 


BRASTAG 1 


217 


Mr. Van Rossum, nodding to them in a 
friendly fashion. “Not like the Battas up 
farther, who are still full of superstition and 
ancient customs. You will find them amus¬ 
ing, though,” he said, turning to Ann. 
“They are like children, all of them.” 

“And the ponies! Ah, the dear little 
ponies!” Mina cried out. “We may ride 
them, father, may we not?” 

“Well, in the carts, perhaps—you and 
Miss Ann together. That will be fine. 
See, here one comes now!” 

“Oh, aren’t they the darlings!” exclaimed 
Ann; and, indeed, any little girl would like 
the spirited little ponies that were approach¬ 
ing. And the clean little trap they drew 
seemed meant just for girls like Ann and 
Mina. 

“I can hardly wait to get there,” cried 
Mina. “O-oh, you and I, we will have the 
fine time, Ann.” 

“Won’t we!” replied Ann, her own happy 
and contented self again. 


2 l8 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“See, there are some of the Batta women 
now,” said Mr. Van Rossum, pointing to a 
long row of short, stocky, dark-skinned 
people working in a field not far away. 

“What are they doing?” asked Uncle Bob, 
as they watched the women rhythmically 
pounding long sticks into the ground, and 
then, all together, pulling them out again. 

“They’re ploughing,” shouted Quarles, 
anxious to contribute to the newcomers’ 
store of information. “Ploughing like a 
hundred years ago! Aren’t they funny?” 

“And they eat dogs,’’ little Mina whis¬ 
pered to Ann. “Sure they do, dogs!” 

“Oh, no!” said Ann in a horrified voice. 

“Well—sometimes,” Mr. Van Rossum 
told her, laughing. “Nice mangy ones that 
they have no further use for.” 

“O dear! I know I can’t like people who 
do that.” 

“They won’t make you eat the dogs,” 
laughed Uncle Bob. “Tell them you’re a 


BRASTAGI 


219 


vegetarian; they’ll give you strawberries.” 

“You will have fine food of all kinds at 
the Hotel Brastagi,” Mr. Van Rossum com¬ 
forted her. “And we are already there.” 

“What a glorious view!” exclaimed Rob¬ 
ert Fairlee, as they swept up to the hotel, 
while Ann said nothing, happily drinking 
in the beauty of the distant mountains 
whence the air came fresh and sweet. 

They found the hotel itself delightful, 
wide-open and homelike. Many people 
were there for the week-end. A delicious 
dinner was served that evening, and after¬ 
ward native musicians played for them all, 
strange music, now shrill and gay, now soft 
and sad. 

Three happy days the travelers had there 
together. Then, on Monday morning, Mr. 
and Mrs. Van Rossum, Quarles and Robert 
Fairlee, with many directions to Saragi and 
the little girls, stood ready to depart. Uncle 
Bob drew Ann to one side. 


220 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“I think it’s best for you to stay here this 
week, little partner. Is it all right with 
you?” 

“Oh, yes,” Ann answered. “Don’t worry 
about me, I’ll write you every day so you 
won’t.” 

“Keep happy.” His blue eyes met hers 
with a challenge in them. 

“I will,” Ann’s own eyes answered it. 

Her uncle bent and kissed her. “I’ll have 
a busy week, for I find we can get a boat 
home the week following. I’ll spend every 
minute of this one finishing things up and 
come back for you on Friday.” 

“Oh, you angel!” cried Ann delightedly, 
and ran with Mina, who had come for her, 
to say good-by to the rest of the party. 

It was not possible to be lonely with a 
chatterbox like Mina for a companion and 
bedfellow. She and Saragi both knew Bras- 
tagi well, and introduced Ann to all of its 
beauties and pleasures. The days sped by 
so happily, so full of interest and adventure, 


BRASTAGI 


221 


that Ann scarcely had time to do the one 
thing she had determined upon doing—the 
writing of a letter each day to Uncle Bob, 
and one, some time during the week, to her 
friend, Mr. Trowbridge. 

“My dear old man, I do wonder how he 
is,” said Ann to herself, as she, at last, one 
morning, drove Mina away with Saragi, and 
settled herself in a quiet corner for the pro¬ 
posed letter. 

She wrote carefully, stopping every once 
in a while to picture him, the old figure 
stubbornly upright, the gray eyes, now keen, 
now blurred, a little cross perhaps, and miss¬ 
ing her a little. 



Stopping every once in a while to picture him 

















222 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


After telling him, in her brief, young fash¬ 
ion, of their voyage and of Medan, Ann 
wrote, 

“I thought of you as soon as I came here. 
This part of the country is full of strange 
things. You’d just like, I know, to take the 
whole Batta country and shut it up in one of 
your curio cabinets. Every day as I travel 
about with my dear, queer Saragi and little 
Mina, I think of you. I am going to bring 
you one of the funny chess-boards and men 
that the natives here have made for them¬ 
selves, and perhaps, when I come home, you 
will teach me how to play. I remember you 
once said you would. The Battas play chess 
all the time. They were taught it by the 
German missionaries. They have chess¬ 
boards all marked out on the seats that are 
built around their homes and around their 
corn-cribs, and they use volcano stones for 
men! I will bring you some of the volcano 
stones, too. 

“All of the corn-cribs and goat-houses 
have been built high from the ground. 
Guess why! So that tigers can’t get in! 
Doesn’t that make you creep? But we 


BRASTAGI 


223 


don’t worry, because the tigers come only 
once in a while, at night, and never about 
the hotel. The goats get into their houses 
by little stairways, the cunningest things you 
ever saw. 

“The people’s houses are strange-looking, 
too, all made of painted wood, with curved 
roofs and the carved head of a goat or some 
other animal above the doorway. 

“The Battas themselves are much darker 
than the Malays, and they are ever so funny. 
They wear Indigo blue clothes, when they 
wear any,—the children don’t mostly,—and 
all the women wear long silver ear-rings that 
weigh pounds and pounds. They are jolly 
though, all of them, and will stop their work 
any time to dance for you or get you a pony 
to ride. 

“The ponies are perfectly sweet. I’m dy¬ 
ing to bring one home for my cousin Mary. 
Mina and I drive two of them every morn¬ 
ing. They are named Pitta and Pontas, 
after two of the children.” 

Ann told him then of their intended re¬ 
turn, and sent, finally, her love. 

“Now he will know I have not forgotten 
him, my dear old man,” she said. 


224 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


She sat quietly for a moment, looking over 
toward the mountains, golden blue and 
peaceful. 

“Mountains are the stillest things,” 
thought the little girl. “But somehow they 
always make you think of the people you 
love.” 

She was glad to be alone with them for a 
little while, to think of Uncle Bob, who 
would be with her again on Friday; of the 
home folks, who had all her life given her 
care and affection. Distance faded out all 
their peculiarities, and they stood before her 
in kindly vision—her own people. 

“I’ve never been nice enough and grate¬ 
ful enough to them,” thought Ann. “When 
I go back I’ll try to be better. I wonder if 
we’ll really start next week. I can hardly 
wait to hear.” 

But the end of the week came quickly 
enough, and Robert Fairlee with it. He 
had, he told Ann, made arrangements for 
their leave-taking on the following Thurs- 



BRASTAG 1 


225 


day. His business was about finished, and 
they were going home. 

Mina was disconsolate, but forgot her sor¬ 
row in trying to cram into the next two days 
all the things she and Ann had wanted to 
do. Then, on Monday morning, the two 
girls, with Uncle Bob, took a last look at 
dear Brastagi, waved good-by to the funny 
Battas, and, in the freshness of the early day, 
drove down the mountains back to Medan. 


CHAPTER XVI 


“good-by, Sumatra” 

I T seemed as if all Medan were sorry to 
see them go. Every one admired the 
big American gentleman, so straight¬ 
forward in his dealings, so friendly in spite 
of the keenness of his blue eyes. Every one 
had grown fond of the pretty little girl, who 
said “Tabe” so pleasantly to high and low 
alike each morning. 

All the Van Rossums and several others 
beside were to ride with them to Belawan to 
see them embark. Little gifts—“to help you 
remember Sumatra”—were put shyly into 
Ann’s hands. Saragi stood close beside her, 
anxious to serve until the last moment, not 
showing in her quiet face the sadness she 
felt in parting from her little charge. 

When, for a moment, they were alone, she 

226 



"GOOD-BY, SUMATRA” 


227 


brought from under her mantle the gift she 
had been keeping for Ann, a gift much more 
elaborate than any the little girl had received. 
It was a tray such as is made only in India, 
rich in design, beautiful in workmanship. 



The gift she had been keeping for Ann 


“Some day,” said Saragi in her broken 
English, “you have big house—you remem¬ 
ber Saragi.” 

Ann’s arms flew up to her neck, and she 
gave the faithful servant the first hug she 
had probably ever received. 

“Saragi—I love you,” she whispered. 















228 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

“Love—you,” the woman whispered back, 
smiling, at last. 

When they were finally on the boat Ann 
felt quite tired out from the excitement of it 
all. Perhaps that was why, when two days 
out a storm arose, she was seasick for the 
first time. It was not a very bad storm, but 
poor Ann was very sick. For three days she 
lay pale and wretched on her bed. A kind 
stewardess brought hot tea and ship rem¬ 
edies, in vain; in vain, Uncle Bob stayed be¬ 
side her and told her how splendidly she’d 
feel after it was all over. Ann was quite 
sure she was going to die. 

It was not until they sailed into a tranquil 
sea, and she awoke one morning feeling 
wonderfully free from that terrible feeling, 
that she realized that, perhaps, her uncle did 
know what he was talking about. She got 
up, determined to eat everything on the ship! 
Oh, she was hungry! And oh, she was so 
happy! And she was so gloriously alive 
once more! 


“GOOD-BY, SUMATRA ” 


229 

She wished, at once, to eat a perfectly 
huge breakfast, and then go on deck 
and see everybody and do everything. 
Where were they, anyway, and were 
there many nice people aboard? 

Uncle Bob, vastly relieved that she was 
taking her usual interest in things about 
her, looked as though he would like 
to dance a jig, but tried, instead, to 
keep up with her questions. 

As for the passengers, he said that 
they didn’t seem to be an unusually attractive 
crowd. Perhaps, because some of them, 
like Ann, had been ill. Perhaps, because of 
other reasons. There were, among them, 
missionaries, worn out from their labors, go¬ 
ing home for a rest; planters, discouraged in 
their endeavors, going back home to hunt 
other jobs; people who had been around the 
world, a bit tired perhaps, on this, their last 
lap. 

“But there are some, like you and me, 
puss,” ended Uncle Bob, “just kids, no mat- 


230 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


ter what age they may be. You’ll pick them 
out.” 

Ann did. She confided her selection to 
her uncle that very day at luncheon. 

“Those two young men over there, the 
ones that are laughing. They’re jolly, don’t 
you think so? And that family, the one with 
the two boys and the cunning little girl— 
are they English, do you think? Then— 
that old man that looks like a soldier. 
Somehow, though he isn’t as old, he reminds 
me of my Mr. Trowbridge. And then— 
that lady!” 

“What lady?” said Robert Fairlee. 

“Oh, Uncle Bob, you must know the one 
I mean. There isn’t any one like her on this 
boat. Don’t look now, but it’s the one two 
tables away from us, on your left. Uncle 
Bob—she’s different!” 

“Well,” said her uncle, “that’s interesting, 
isn’t it?” 

Ann thought it was very interesting. 

Walking about deck, trying not to skip, 


"GOOD-BY, SUMATRA " 


231 


—it was so delightful to be well again,—eat¬ 
ing huge and delicious meals, and feeling 
she would never get quite filled up; making 
friends with the nice English family—all the 
time she was conscious of the solitary pas¬ 
senger she had picked out as the one person 
on board she most wished to know. 

“She’s an American, don’t you think so?” 
she asked one day, in a low voice, after they 
had passed the lady’s chair, where she 
usually sat reading or writing letters. 

“Oh, yes!” her uncle answered quickly. 

“Did you ever see such lovely dark eyes?” 
continued Ann. “And the creaminess of 
her skin, with that pinky color it gets when 
she’s out here. Oh, I do wish I looked like 
her!” 

“You never will, darling niece; you’re too 
twentieth-century and blue-eyed.” 

“Well, I wish I knew her, anyway. 
Could I—do you suppose it would be all 
right to speak to her?” 

“I wouldn’t,” replied Robert Fairlee. 


232 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“She isn’t at our table, you know, and she 
doesn’t seem to care to make many friends.” 

“That’s so, but she isn’t horrid, either,” 
Ann said thoughtfully. “She picked little 
Vicky up when she fell this morning, and 
was ever so sweet to her.” 

“Yes, so she did.” 

“Did you see her? Why, I thought you 
were reading.” 

“M-m-m—I was, but—well, the little girl 
cried or something, didn’t she?” 

“Perhaps she did,” agreed Ann. “I think 
I’ll fall down and cry. Maybe the pretty 

lady will pick me up.” 

As it happened, it was Ann herself 

who picked something up. She was deck¬ 
walking the next morning, after breakfast, 
and, as usual, made it a point to walk past the 
object of her admiration. She glanced at 
her shyly, and saw that she was writing 
again; saw also that, at that moment, a stray 
sheet escaped from her portfolio and somer¬ 
saulted down the deck. Ann, in a flash, was 



" GOOD-BY , SUMATRA’’ 


233 


after it, and, capturing it, returned it to the 
owner with an appealing smile. 

“Thank you, dear,” said the lady in a sweet 
voice. “You are energetic early this morn¬ 
ing, aren’t you? It’s lucky for my letter 
that you are.” 

“I am, now,” laughed Ann, delighted to 
get a word from the adored lady. “I was 
seasick for a while.” 

“O dear! that’s dreadful, isn’t it? I re¬ 
member my first experience, although it was 
ever so long ago. I’m a seasoned traveler, 
how. You see, I’m just coming back from 
a trip around the world.” 

“Around the world!” exclaimed Ann. 
“How perfectly splendid! Just think how 
much you must know. I should think you 
could write a book!” 

“I have a hard enough time writing the 
letters I should,” laughed the lady. “I’m too 
fond of day-dreaming, I’m afraid. See, I’m 
putting these away already. Won’t you sit 
down beside me and talk a while?” 


234 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Oh, thank you.” Ann said it so joyously 
that the lady could not help smiling. “If 
you’re sure I shall not disturb you.” 

“Perfectly sure,” said her new acquaint¬ 
ance. “And won’t you tell me your name, 
dear?” 

“Ann Burdette.” 

The lady smiled again. “That’s a nice 
name. Does it sing itself, or is it the way 
you say it?” 

“I never thought about it,” laughed Ann. 
“I like my name, though. Lots of the girls 
I know don’t like their names, but I like 
mine.” 

“I like mine, too,” said the lady. “My 
name is Starr—Mary Starr.” 

She was not prepared for the effect of this 
announcement upon her companion. Ann 
was sitting bolt upright, with wide-open eyes 
and mouth. 

“Mary Starr!” she gasped. “Mary Starr! 
Not our Miss Mary Starr!” 

“Your— Why, what do you mean?” 


" GOOD-BY, SUMATRA " 


235 


The lady was evidently as astonished as Ann. 

“Do you—” asked Ann, leaning forward, 
flushed and breathless—“do you live in a 
place called Memford, and have you a dear 
little house there?” 

“Why, yes,” said Miss Starr. “Yes, I 
have. Isn’t this surprising! How-” 

“Well,” said Ann, “we lived in that very 
house until just before we came away.” 

“But I don’t understand,” said the lady 
slowly. “Didn’t you say your name was 
Burdette? I’m sure I leased the house to a 
Mr. Robert Fairlee.” 

“That’s Uncle Bob, and I’m the little girl 
you didn’t want there. ‘No children al¬ 
lowed,’ the man said when we wanted to 
rent it. And then Uncle Bob wrote to you, 
and you wrote back and said it was all right. 
Don’t you remember?” 

“I see, now,” said Miss Starr. “And I’m 
very glad to make your acquaintance, Ann 
Burdette. I hope you left my house there 
safe and sound. I’m going to need it very 




236 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

shortly. In. fact, I feel as though I should 
never want to leave it again.” 

“We tried to keep it nice, Janie and I,” 
said Ann gravely. “And Uncle Bob and I 
used to sit before the fire and talk about 
you, and wonder what you were like. We 
did used to want to know you so!” 

“You did! Why I never dreamed of any 
one who rented the house thinking about 
me.” 

Ann gazed at her with her heart in her 
eyes. “How could any one live in that per¬ 
fectly darling house and not think of you?” 
she said. “Oh, I must go right away and 
tell Uncle Bob. Would you—could you 
stay right here for a minute if I went and 
got him?” 

Miss Starr nodded, and Ann sped away on 
winged feet. She dragged her astonished 
uncle out of the smoking-room, and poured 
her story into his ears, and, incoherent 
though it was, Robert Fairlee understood 
that a wonderful thing had happened—that 



" GOOD-BY, SUMATRA " 


237 


Ann had met the lady of their many con¬ 
versations, and that she was Miss Mary 
Starr of Starr House! 

“And she’s out there, waiting to see you. 
She remembered your name and everything. 
Come, right away, Uncle Bob.” 

Her uncle hesitated only a moment, but 
in that moment he swung his big little girl 
up into his arms and laid his cheek against 
hers, and in that moment he said something 
she did not, in the least, understand. 

“Nancy,” he said, “are you going to make 
all my dreams come true this way?” 

“I don’t know about your dreams,” said 
Ann. “But I do know Miss Starr’s wait¬ 
ing. Hurry!” 

It was a glorious moment when she intro¬ 
duced them. 

“I know, now, why we came to Sumatra,” 
she said, naively. Whereupon both her eld¬ 
ers laughed, and Miss Starr said something 
about having Mr. Fairlee’s letter right there 
on the ship with her. 


238 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“I thought I might need it sometime,” she 
explained. 

“You won’t need it, now—you have Ann 
to refer to,” Robert Fairlee told her with a 
twinkle in his eye. 

They all got along famously after that. 
Miss Starr, who had prepared herself for 
three weeks of boredom on this return jour¬ 
ney, found herself highly diverted by Ann’s 
ingeniousness, and touched by her devotion. 
As for Robert Fairlee, without intruding, he 
seemed always to be at her side when some¬ 
thing was needed or his companionship was 
desirable. They read and walked together, 
swam and danced together, and Mary Starr, 
who had been all the way around the world, 
knew, for the first time, what it was to be 
taken care of really well. 

Ann, beaming upon them both, began to 
dread the end of their voyage, because each 
day, then, would not afford her a sight of her 
beloved Miss Mary Starr. 

“Starr Lady,” she said, “will you let me 


"GOOD-BY, SUMATRA" 


239 


come and see you when we get to Memford? 
We don’t know where we’re going to live, 
but I know I’m going to miss Starr House 
and you.” 

“Of course,” said Miss Starr, putting her 
arm about the little girl, “I want you—both 
—to come.” 

“Then we will,” announced Ann, in a 
glad voice. “Although I don’t know just 
when Uncle Bob can come—he’s always so 
busy.” 

There was a queer smile at the corner of 
Uncle Bob’s mouth. 

“I’ll try to manage it,” he said, looking 
straight into Miss Starr’s eyes. 

Not long after that they sailed into New 
York harbor. 

“I feel as though we’d been away a year,” 
declared Ann, as she stood with Miss Starr 
and her uncle waiting to go ashore. “And 
it’s been scarcely three months. It’s May, 
isn’t it? It will be lovely at Fenly now, Un¬ 
cle Bob, won’t it?” 



240 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


As she spoke, she gazed out absently over 
the approaching crowded docks, then, sud¬ 
denly, she started and leaned forward, look¬ 
ing intently in one direction. 

“Uncle Bob! Look over there! No, 
there! Do you see— Why, Uncle Bob, it 
is!” 

For, as if the mention of Fenly had con¬ 
jured them up, there on the docks, awaiting 
them, stood Uncle John and little Mary. 

“Well—good old John,” said Robert Fair- 
lee, while Ann pointed them out to Miss 
Starr, at the same time waving wildly to at¬ 
tract her cousin’s attention. 

She could hardly wait to get off the boat, 
and went running down the dock with out¬ 
stretched arms, regardless of the amused 
glances of onlookers. 

“Bless her!” said Miss Starr, as she and 
Robert Fairlee stood watching her. “She 
has such a loving heart.” 

“It runs in the family,” said Uncle Bob. 


" GOOD-BY, SUMATRA” 


241 


“I believe it does,” laughed Miss Starr. 
“I’ve seen evidences of it in. another mem¬ 
ber.” 

“Mary,” said Robert Fairlee, “when may 
I come to see you?” 

Miss Starr carefully studied the handle of 
her umbrella. 

“Well,” she said, “I’m going to stay in 
New York a week, but after that-” 

“A week!” echoed Mr. Fairlee. “A 
whole week!” 

“Well, I have to have some clothes,” ar¬ 
gued Mary Starr. 

“Oh, clothes!” said Uncle Bob. 

“And see my brother, if he’s in town. 
He’s the only brother I have, you know. 
But after that—let me see—I invite you and 
Ann to dinner at Starr House a week from 
to-night. How will that do?” 

“Ann,” said Ann’s uncle calmly, “has an¬ 
other engagement for that night, but I ac¬ 
cept with pleasure.” 



242 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“It’s too bad about Ann,” Miss Starr said 
demurely. “Here she comes, now. Per¬ 
haps if I asked her-” 

“Oh, wait!” implored Robert Fairlee, as 
Ann came up with his brother and little 
Mary. 

The two men greeted each other as though 
they had parted only yesterday, but Mary 
kissed her uncle enthusiastically. 

“Oh, Uncle Robert, the circus is coming 
next week!” 

“Jolly!” said Uncle Bob, presenting his 
brother to Miss Starr. 

Miss Starr smiled graciously. She liked 
the looks of quiet, brown farmer John; she 
liked little Mary in her apple-green dress and 
her wide white Sunday-school hat. But she 
was quite determined to leave them all and 
go, as soon as possible, to a hotel. So, pres¬ 
ently, Uncle Bob put her into a taxi, then 
found one for themselves. 

“Let’s,” sang Mary gayly, “let’s all go and 
get a chocolate milk-shake!” 



" GOOD-BY, SUMATRA" 


243 


“You’ll turn into a chocolate, Mary,” said 
her father, mildly. “You have two pounds 
of them on your lap this minute.” 

“I know,” said Mary. “I love chocolates 
and Ann better than anything else in the 
world,—except you, of course, and mother 
and the rest—and Uncle Robert.” 

“And the circus,” suggested Uncle Bob. 

Mary bounced up and down on the seat. 
“Oh, Ann,” she cried, “won’t we have fun! 
I was so crazy to get to New York, and now 
I’m so crazy to get home.” 

“Home’s lovely,” sighed Ann. “Isn’t it, 
Uncle Bob?” 

“Lovelier than ever,” declared her uncle. 
“Come on, Mary, I’m with you for that milk¬ 
shake!” 



CHAPTER XVII 


A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


A NN went right out to Fenly with 
Mary and Uncle John. Uncle 
Bob had really planned that they 
would go back to the old house on Madison 
Avenue with Aunt Rachel for a while, but 
Mary was loath to part with her cousin, and 
begged that she might come home with them. 

“Why, that’s one thing we came to New 
York for—that and Daddy’s plow,” she said, 
—“just so we’d get you first. Say you want 
to come, Ann. The country’s so pretty 
now; the grass is full of violets, and we have 
a brand-new calf, honest we have.” 

“Not to mention the pigs,” added Uncle 
John slyly. 

Ann laughed up at him. 

244 



A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


245 


“But where would I sleep?” she asked. 
“Miss Wheeler’s there, you know.” 

“No, she isn’t; that’s why we wanted you 
to come now. She’s promised the Jen¬ 
ningses she’d visit them before school closes, 
and the Scattergoods, too, a week apiece, and 
she’s going to-day.” 

“I’d like to come if Uncle Bob says I may.” 

“Might as well, puss. I’ve a busy week 
before me, giving account of all I’ve seen 
and done. Go and stay with your country 
relatives until circus day, and then, maybe, 
Uncle John will bring you all in.” 

But his brother shook his head. “One 
day off at this time of the year is all I can 
count upon,” he said. “But Mother wants 
to do some shopping, and can bring you in, 
and either she or Aunt Margaret will go to 
the circus to help look after you.” 

“All right, let’s leave it that way,” said 
Robert Fairlee. “Good-by, Nancy dear; 
now you have the traveling habit, you can’t 
stop. 


246 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“I’ll lose it at Fenly,” promised Ann. 
“Good-by, Uncle Bob, darling; don’t work 
too hard.” 

Ten happy days in the country followed 
—ten happy days, full of the glories of May¬ 
time—arbutus, violets, and apple-blossoms; 
bluebirds, thrushes, and cardinals; baby 
things in pens and in the fields. Ann’s heart 
felt almost bursting with new love for her 
native land. 

Then came one glorious afternoon at the 
circus for all the children of the Fairlee 
family—Uncle Bob’s annual treat to them. 
Aunt Margaret went this time, too, to be 
sure, she said, that Tommy didn’t get lost 
again. Tommy, as chubby and mischievous 
as ever, looked as though he had never been 
sick, but pretty little Peggy had grown slim 
and tall during her illness, and seemed so 
much older and more quiet that Ann felt 
she must get acquainted all over again with 
her little cousin, and promised to come and 
spend a week with her the following month. 


A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 247 

“I’m going to Aunt Rachel’s now and un¬ 
pack my bags, and show you what I brought 
from Sumatra. There will be something for 
each of you,” she told the delighted children. 

Once more in the old house where she had 
spent so many lonely hours, Ann felt as 
though the two years had slipped away, and 
she were back there with only Aunt Rachel 
and Tillie. She wandered about the rooms, 
remembering how Uncle Bob, upon his ar¬ 
rival, had taken the stillness and gloominess 
from them all. 

“Here’s where I sat shining the spoons the 
day he came,” she thought, going out into 
the pantry. “And here,” she said, looking 
into the old-fashioned parlor, “is where I 
used to polish the furniture until I ached, 
and then Aunt Rachel would come and run 
her finger over it to see if it would smudge. 
Dear me, I’m very lazy these days—no 
school and no work. I’d better ask Aunt 
Rachel if I can’t do something to help.” 

“Well,” said her aunt, when she presently 


248 ANN AT STARR HOUSE 

made her request, “you might carry these 
winter things down to the back yard. The 
sun looks as if it might stay out to-day, and 
the house is full of moths—pesky things!” 

“You said that just like Janie,” Ann told 
her, laughing. “Dear Janie, I wonder 
when Uncle Bob is going to see her. He 
says every day he’ll take me if he can, and 
then he can’t. He’s awfully busy, isn’t he, 
Aunt Rachel?” she said a bit wistfully. 
“He’s away all day, and then has to go out 
every night. I think I’ll ask him if he can’t 
go to Janie’s to-morrow.” 

“No—this is only just another of them, 
puss,” said her uncle, when Ann did ask 
him. He sounded quite gay, however, and 
didn’t look at all overworked, and the little 
hug he gave her was, if anything, more af¬ 
fectionate than ever. 

“Well, then,” Ann said, hugging him 
back, “do you think I could go and see Starr 
Lady? That’s right on the bus route, and 
I couldn’t get lost.” 



A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


249 


“I wouldn’t,” said her uncle quickly. 
“She’s probably getting settled and visiting 
with her old friends. She wants me to bring 
you to dinner some night next week. Won’t 
that do?” 

“It certainly will,” cried Ann delightedly. 
“Oh, have you seen her, Uncle Bob? And 
is she as dear and sweet as ever?” 

“Wonderful!” Her uncle spoke so en¬ 
thusiastically that Ann thought suddenly, 
“Why I do believe Uncle Bob likes Starr 
Lady about as well as I do.” 

“I’d like to go to school some day to see 
them all before the year ends,” she said. 
“But I think I’ll leave that until Friday, if 
Aunt Rachel doesn’t need me then. And 
this afternoon, Uncle Bob—do you know 
what I’ve just thought of? I think I’ll go to 
see my dear old man.” 

“Mr. Trowbridge?” 

“Couldn’t I, Uncle Bob, darling? 
Maybe he’s waiting for me to come.” 

“Well, if you’re careful when you get off 



250 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


the bus, I don’t see why you shouldn’t.” 

“I’ll run up right away and get the chess¬ 
board I bought for him at Brastagi. How 
glad I will be to see him, and I can peep at 
Starr House, too.” 

She flew upstairs to bring out and wrap 
her little gift, and to put on the tweed travel¬ 
ing costume in which she had sailed away so 
blithely three months before. 

Two hours later found her standing be¬ 
fore the well-known door. 

“How surprised Smiley will be to see me,” 
she thought happily. 

He was! For a moment, upon opening 
the door, he stood staring at her, then his 
usually impassive face broke into a smile. 

“Well, Miss! And so you’re back 
again! 

“Yes, and how are you, Smiley?” Ann 
said gayly, stepping into the big hall. 
“And how is Mr. Trowbridge?” 

Smiley’s face changed back to an expres¬ 
sion of more than his usual solemnity. 


A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


251 


“Then, you ’aven’t ’eard, Miss,’’ said he. 
“Mr. Trowbridge died three weeks ago.” 

Ann jumped back, more startled than she 
had ever been in all her life. 

“Dead!” she whispered. “Oh, Smiley!” 

“Three weeks ago yesterday,” repeated 
the man. 

Ann looked at him, pale and trembling a 
little. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! What did he—how 
did he?” 

“ ’E ’ad another stroke, Miss, and hit car¬ 
ried ’im off quick, like that.” 

“I’m glad he didn’t—didn’t have to sit in 
that chair and not be able to move, if he had 
to have that—that thing,” Ann said chok- 
ingly. “Smiley, did he get my letter before 
—he went?” 

“That ’e did, miss, and ’e was that pleased, 
I could see it.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad he knew I thought of 
him.” 

There was a sound of voices from the 



252 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


closed room, and, seeing Smiley look toward 
it questioningly, Ann put out her hand as to 
an old friend. 

“I’ll go, now, Smiley. There are some 
people here now, aren’t there? I’ll come 
some other time to see you and Molly and 
Mrs. Kelly.” 

“Wait a minute, Miss.” The old butler 
went to the door and opened it. “ ’Ere’s the 
young lady, now,” Ann heard him say as he 
stepped inside. 

“Will you come in, Miss Ann?” he said, 
coming out a moment later. “There’s 
young Mr. Trowbridge ’ere wants to see 
you.” 

There were several people in the room 
Ann entered, but all she saw when she went 
into the familiar room was the chair of her 
old friend in its accustomed place—empty. 

Crossing to it softly, the little girl laid her 
hand on the arm caressingly, and, in spite of 
herself, big tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“My dear old man,” she said softly. 


A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


253 


“Very good acting,” said a lady who sat 
on the other side of the room, and Ann, look¬ 
ing up, saw that she was young and beauti¬ 
fully dressed. 

“That must be the daughter who was in 
Europe last winter,” Ann thought quickly. 
“And that’s Mr. Peter, his son. I’ve seen 
him come, sometimes in the evenings, and 
once his wife was with him.” 

It was Peter Trowbridge who spoke now. 

“I don’t think so, Millicent,” he said 
sharply. “Will you come over here, young 
lady?” 

Ann, looking at him, thought she would 
like him. 

“You are Miss Ann Burdette?” said he. 

“Just Ann Burdette,” said Ann, smiling 
faintly. “I’m only a little girl; I’m only 
twelve.” 

“I am Peter Trowbridge,” said the young 
man. “And this is my sister, Mrs. Warren.” 

Ann curtsied. “I know,” she said. 
“I’ve heard him speak of you both.” 


254 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“You used to run over here a lot, didn’t 
you?” Mrs. Warren said in the same dis¬ 
agreeable tone. “Who was it sent you?” 

Ann thought of the first time she had come 
to the house, and how the master of it had 
asked her the same question. 

“Nobody sent me,” she said now, as then. 
“We just used to sit and talk a while and 
sometimes we played games.” She looked 
down in sudden thought at the little gift she 
had brought. 

“I brought him a little chess-game to-day,” 
she said, holding it forth. “I got it in Suma¬ 
tra for him. You see, I—didn’t know.” 

“Sumatra! Now where might that be?” 
queried the young son of the house. 

“Oh, heaven only knows,” said his sister. 
“More fairy-tales, probably!” 

Ann looked at her indignantly, but now 
the third person in the room spoke, an eld¬ 
erly man, courtly and quiet. 

“Will you allow me to ask a question? It 
would seem to have a bearing on the matter 


A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 255 

at hand.” And, to Ann’s surprise, he said: 
“Did Mr. Trowbridge ever speak to you, my 
child, of a ship with silver wings?” 

Ann flushed. How had these people 
heard of her simple verse-making? She felt 
suddenly abashed, but stood her ground. 

“It was a little rhyme that we used to talk 
about,” she said shyly. “I told it to him 
once, and he seemed to like it.” 

“There, Millicent!” exclaimed Mr. Peter. 
“I told you it wasn’t all bosh.” 

“Would you mind”—went on the elderly 
gentleman, not heeding them,—“would you 
mind repeating the verse, my dear?” 

Ann wondered what it was all about, and 
she didn’t wish at all to tell her rhyme to 
these people. It seemed, all at once, ex¬ 
tremely silly and meaningless, but with her 
eyes on the older man, she repeated, softly: 

“If I were a ship with silver wings, 

I’d fill myself full of the loveliest things, 

And bring them over the wide blue seas, 

To all little girls without families.” 


256 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Hm’m—I begin to see light,” Peter 
Trowbridge said quickly. “Philanthropy, 
pure and simple, Tyson.” 

“Nevertheless, I think it would hold,” said 
the lawyer, for such he was. 

“It’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard 
of,” Mrs. Warren said petulantly. 

“Oh, come, don’t be such a goose. What 
does it matter in the long run?” said her 
brother. “It’s turning out better than I ex¬ 
pected.” He rose from his chair and smiled 
at Ann, and, although she thought they had 
been very rude, talking of things she did 
not understand, Ann smiled back. 

“I think that’s all, little Miss Burdette. 
Thank you very much.” The lawyer, too, 
now rose. 

With a last look at the old, familiar chair, 
Ann went out. Once in the hall, she caught 
Smiley’s hand and held on to it silently for 
a moment. 

“Good-by, Miss,” the man said gently. 
“We’d be glad if you’d stop by and see us, 


A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


257 


Mrs. Kelly and I. We’ll be ’ere for a while. 
Molly, she’s gone with ’er mother to the lady 
you sent to see ’er, Miss.” 

“Mrs. Hazard! Has she really? Oh, 
I’m so glad. I’ll see her then. And I’ll run 
over to see you next week, Smiley. I’m com¬ 
ing to Starr House to have dinner with Miss 
Mary Starr.” 

Mystified and down-hearted, Ann took the 
bus back to Aunt Rachel’s. People in the 
bus wondered what had happened to the 
pretty little blue-eyed girl in the corner, to 
make her look so sad. 

Reaching home, Ann went directly to the 
little room she always had whenever she 
stayed there. Shutting the door, she sat 
down and tried to think things out. Pier 
dear old man was gone, but, wherever he 
was, he was not sick or unhappy any more. 
He could walk without a cane, and, perhaps, 
go to business again, as he had so often 
wished. 

Ann walked over to the bureau and looked 


258 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


earnestly at the two pictures that always 
seemed looking back at her, lovingly, ea¬ 
gerly. 

“You’re so much younger and happier 
‘ than he is, Father—Mother, dear,” she said. 
“I know you’ll be good to him. And maybe 
he’ll tell you about the little girl you left 
here.” 

She felt strangely comforted, and, awhile 
later, was able to tell them at dinner what had 
happened. It was Aunt Rachel who seemed 
the more interested. Uncle Bob just said: 
“Died while we were away, did he? That’s 
too bad, poor old chap!” But he said it in 
such a happy voice that Ann looked at him 
in surprise. 

“But Uncle Bob didn’t know him. I sup¬ 
pose he can’t feel so very sorry,” Ann 
thought, excusing him. 

Mr. Fairlee, however, was destined to hear 
more about Mr. Trowbridge. Coming 
home one evening, several days later, he 


A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


259 


called Aunt Rachel into the parlor and shut 
the door. It was such an unusual thing for 
Uncle Bob to do, that Ann, as she heard 
them talking, could not help wondering 
what it was all about. 

Presently the door opened and she heard 
Aunt Rachel say: “Certainly I’d tell her; 
the child’s got sense.” 

“Dear me, I wonder what’s happened 
now,” thought the little girl. She came 
slowly at her uncle’s call. 

“Nancy, my dear little girl,” said Uncle 
Bob, drawing her down beside him, “I have 
some wonderful news for you. Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge’s will was read last week, and he has 
left you ten thousand dollars.”. 

“Ten thousand dollars!” Ann looked at 
him in astonishment. “Do you mean 
money? Why, Uncle Bob, why should my 
dear old man leave me money f” 

“It seems that he thought a lot of you,” 
explained her uncle. “But the old man 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


260 

must have had some purpose in mind about 
it, for he worded the bequest in an unusual 
fashion. Mr. Tyson, the lawyer, who 
hunted me up this morning, read it out to 
me, and seemed to think it had something to 
do with that verse of yours about your 
dream-ship. You remember it, Nancy?” 
Uncle Bob drew a paper from his pocket 
and read: 

“To my little friend, Ann Burdette, ten 
thousand dollars, to help her become a ship 
with silver wings.” 

“O-oh! So that’s why they were all look- 













A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


261 


ing at me and asking me questions,” burst 
out Ann. 

“I suppose they thought the old man was a 
bit out of his mind, talking about silver 
ships, out of a clear sky, that way. Perhaps 
you know what he meant. Do you, 
Nancy?” 

“I said, once,” replied Ann, trying to 
think back clearly, “that I guessed the only 
way I could be a silver ship and give any¬ 
thing would be to get a good education and 
grow into the kind of person that would 
know how to help.” 

“I see,” said her uncle, gently. “It’s that 
tender heart of yours again. He put it that 
way, so you would understand. And almost 
immediately the money comes to you. 
What will you do with it all, puss?” 

“Give it to you,” Ann said promptly. 

“I guess not,” laughed her uncle. “Got 
enough of my own, thank you, but that’s 
just like my girl. No, we must think this 


262 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


over, seriously, and do what’s best for you 
with it. I suppose I could invest it for you, 
and let you decide what you want to do with 
it when you are of age.” 

“No,” said Ann. “Don’t you see, Uncle 
Bob? It says ‘to become.’ I think I might 
use that money to pay for my schooling and 
my music and anything else that will make 
me a better woman.” 

“But, Nancy, you’re my girl. I always 
intended to do that for you.” 

“Uncle Bob, darling,” Ann put both arms 
about his neck. “I always meant to pay for 
myself as soon as I could earn the money. 
If you’ll just always love me and let me live 
with you! Janie always said you didn’t save 
enough, you know, and now you can. Oh, 
won’t Janie be surprised to hear, and Aunt 
Margaret and Uncle John and the rest. I 
feel as though I had to fly and tell everybody. 
Just think—ten thousand dollars!” 

Suddenly she stopped, looking very seri¬ 


ous. 



A SHIP WITH SILVER WINGS 


263 


“Uncle Bob,” she said, “it’s because he 
thought of me that I’m most happy— ‘My 
little friend,’ he said. You don’t think I’d 
rather have the money than him, do you?” 

“Nancy,” said her uncle, “if Mr. Trow¬ 
bridge’s people did not believe that you were 
just the sweet, tender-hearted little girl you 
are, they would have contested that clause 
in the will, even with all they have left for 
themselves. Mr. Tyson told me that.” 

“It’s all right, then,” sighed Ann, and to 
herself she said solemnly: “I’ll do the very 
best I can with it—my dear old man.” 



CHAPTER XVIII 



STARR LIGHT—STARR BRIGHT—HAVE THE 
WISH I WISH TO-NIGHT 

T was one morning the next week that 
Uncle Bob looked across the table at 
X Ann, a long, quiet look, different from 
his usual jolly breakfast look. Ann, glanc¬ 
ing up from her cereal, wondered how he 
could be serious to-day of all days. 

“Don’t forget,” she said gayly, “that it’s 
to-night we’re going to Starr Lady’s.” 

“I shall not,” Uncle Bob smiled, too, now. 

“You wont forget, will you, Aunt 
Rachel?” Ann asked anxiously. 

“Certainly not,” her aunt replied with dig¬ 
nity. “Tillie and I are going to have milk- 
toast—we’ll be busy with strawberry pre¬ 
serves until late this afternoon.” 

“Yum-m—I love strawberry preserves,” 

264 





"STARR LIGHT—STARR BRIGHT” 265 

said Ann. “But, I love Miss Mary Starr 
better. Uncle Bob, I wish you liked her as 
well as I do, but I suppose you couldn’t.” 

“ ‘Somebody said that it couldn’t be 
done,’ ” quoted her uncle, chuckling. 

“ ‘But he did it!’ ” finished Ann with an air 
of triumph. “Will you have time to come 
here for me, Uncle Bob, or shall I take the 
bus and go right to Starr House?” 

“I’ll come for you, dear. I, too, will have 
to dress.” 

“I’ll be ready,” trilled Ann. “I’m going 
to wash my hair as soon as I’ve tidied my 
room, and then I’ll ask Tillie to let me press 
my Alice-blue dress. Oh, yes, I’ll be ready.” 

A good half-hour before the time she stood 
waiting for him, the Alice-blue dress pressed 
and dainty, her small patent-leather pumps 
immaculate, her fine hair shining and rip¬ 
pling about an eager face. 

“Starr Lady herself always looks so per¬ 
fectly beautiful, it would be a shame not to 


266 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


look nice when you go to see her,” Ann said, 
as Uncle Bob looked her over approv¬ 
ingly. 

“Oh, you look lovely, too,” she cried a 
little later, when he came downstairs ready 
to go. She ran to him and squeezed his arm. 
“I never did see two such darling people as 
you and Starr Lady! Uncle Bob-” 

“What is it, puss?” 

“Oh—nothing.” 

“I’m afraid Miss Mary Starr is going to 
cut me out with you, Nancy,” said her un¬ 
cle. 

“Uncle Bob!” exclaimed Ann fervently. 
“You know perfectly well nobody could 
ever do that. I’ll always love you best of 
any one in this world. But, I wish-” 

“Well, what do you wish?” 

“Oh, nothing,” Ann said again shyly. 

“Be careful, Nancy,” laughed her uncle. 
“It’s getting dangerous for you to wish any¬ 
thing; your wishes all seem to come true— 
just like the fairy-tales.” 




"STARR LIGHT—STARR BRIGHT’’ 267 

He looked at her earnestly during the ride 
downtown, but Ann was so happy she didn’t 
see him. 

“I wonder if Starr House will be just the 
same,” said she. 

“Yes, it’s just the same,” said Robert Fair- 
lee absently. 

“Oh, you’ve been there, then?” 

“Yes, I’ve been there several times.” 

“But you didn’t tell me. I thought you 
were so busy, and Starr Lady was, too.” 
Ann spoke in a puzzled tone. 

“We were,” laughed Uncle Bob. “Here 
we are, Nancy—get ready to hop off.” 

The living-room at Starr House looked 
dear and familiar. Ann thought a little 
sadly that it didn’t belong to them any more; 
it belonged to Miss Mary Starr. 

“Where is she?” she whispered. “I 
thought she’d be right here to see us.” 

Her uncle had been walking up and down 
before the fireplace. Now he stopped di¬ 
rectly in front of her. 


268 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Nancy,” he said, “before Miss Mary 
Starr comes in, I want to ask you a question. 
Will you promise to answer it fair and 
square and honest?” 

“Why, Uncle Bob, of course!” 

“Then,” said Uncle Bob, “what would you 
say, Nancy, if I told you that Miss Mary 
Starr and I were going to be married?” 

“You and Starr Lady! Oh, Uncle Bob!” 

Robert Fairlee sat down beside her. 

“Honest and fair, between just the two of 
us—what would you say?” 

“I’d say,” said Ann earnestly—“I’d say no 
one need ever tell me it isn’t any use to pray 
for things. I’ve just prayed and prayed and 
prayed for this. I never heard anything so 
lovely in all my life!” 

Uncle Bob bent and kissed her. 

“There, Mary Starr, you may come out,” 
said he. 

And from behind the screen that had al¬ 
ways stood beside the piano, flushed and 
breathless and smiling, walked the Starr 



"STARR LIGHT—STARR BRIGHT " 269 

Lady. She came over to Ann, and she, too, 
bent and kissed her. 

Mary,” said Uncle Bob, “I hope you’re 
satisfied.” 



“Mary Starr, you may come out” 


“Perfectly,” laughed Miss Starr. “But 
we must explain all this to Ann. 

“Ann, dear, your uncle and I have loved 
each other almost since that precious day 
we met on shipboard; but you two had be¬ 
longed to each other in such a complete little 
family, that I felt, when Bob asked me to be 
his wife, that perhaps you might not like it.” 

“Why, Starr Lady,” Ann said reproach¬ 
fully. “You know I love you.” 















270 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


“Yes, dear, I believe y.ou do, but loving a 
person and living with her are different 
things. Do you think you’d like to live 
with me, Ann?’’ 

“Oh, yes,” Ann said quickly, “of course, 
I would. We used to sit here in this very 
room, Uncle Bob and I, and wonder about 
you, and be kind of lonesome for you even 
then, didn’t we, Uncle Bob?” 

“I did,” said her uncle promptly. 

“But I think,”—Ann went on bravely— 
“that, perhaps, I’d better go back to living 
around after you—you get married. 
Wouldn’t that be best?” 

“Nancy!” and “Ann!” exclaimed her un¬ 
cle and Mary Starr together. 

“If you ever say that again,” declared 
Robert Fairlee, with mock fierceness, “I 
shall bring Janie here to talk Scotch to you. 
You’re my girl, Nancy, and if we don’t have 
you here to keep our traveling feet at home, 
we shall never learn how happy home-keep¬ 
ing hearts can be.” 




"STARR LIGHT—STARR BRIGHT" 


271 


“Oh, Bob,” broke in Miss Starr, “speaking 
of Janie, do you suppose she’d come here and 
help me keep house for us all?” 

Ann clasped her hands. “She’d love it.” 

But Uncle Bob had another thought. 

“Here? Do you mean we are going to 
live here? Then, Mary, will you sell Starr 
House to me, and let me give it to you for a 
present?” 

“We’ll talk that over later,” said Mary 
Starr, sitting down beside Ann. 

“Please!” cried Ann. “Please do take my 
ten thousand dollars, and let me give you 
both Starr House for a wedding present.” 

“Just like you, puss,” laughed her uncle. 
“But that money, you know, is to be spent ex¬ 
clusively in making you a more wonderful 
person than you are.” 

“O dear!” sighed Ann, nestling close to 
her beloved Starr Lady. “Pm just too 
happy for words—to think of my having 
both of you, and Starr House, too!” 

“I hope you’re not too happy to eat,” Mary 



272 


ANN AT STARR HOUSE 


Starr said, smiling at her. “I declare I for¬ 
got all about dinner., It must be waiting.” 

“Then,” said Uncle Bob, getting to his 
feet, “I declare a toast—the best a man can 
give—: ‘Here’s to my Family!’ ” 

“And to mine!” said Mary Starr, standing 
proudly beside him. 

Ann sprang to her feet. “To all families, 
everywhere!” she cried. 


THE END 

















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